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Riding the Women’s Tour de France – that doesn’t exist

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Jamie Wilkins
26 Jul 2019

We spent a day with the InternationElles, a team of women riding the entire Tour route to campaign for the creation of a women’s version

It’s the day before Stage 14 of the 2019 Tour de France. Tomorrow the pro peloton will take on a 111km route that includes the Category 1 Col du Soulor and finishes at the summit of the mighty Tourmalet in the Pyrenees. Today, however, these same mountains are the challenge facing the InternationElles.

Formed this year, the InternationElles are a team of amateur women who are riding the entire route of the Tour de France to campaign for equality. Unlike with many other sports, they are not campaigning for equal prize money or parity of television coverage. Instead, they are highlighting that, when it comes to the biggest event in cycling, a women’s version doesn’t even exist.

‘So many casual fans don’t even know there isn’t a women’s Tour de France. They just assume there is,’ Helen Bridgman tells us as we climb the Col du Soulor from the north. Riding alongside, her teammate Helen Sharp adds, ‘It’s 2019, there should just be a platform. Cycling is lagging way behind other sports.’

The InternationElles are following in the wheeltracks of an event called ‘Donnons des Elles au Velo J-1’, which started in 2015 when three French women rode the Tour route a day ahead of the men. They returned every year since, gaining more riders and sponsors along the way.

This year, the InternationElles formed to help spread the message further; the 10 riders are from Britain, America, the Netherlands and Australia, bringing a much-needed Anglophone voice to the cause. All have taken time away from family and jobs to do this.

The whole point of riding one day ahead of the men is to draw maximum attention to the cause, and it has a secondary benefit, too.

‘The support along the way has been fantastic,’ says Bridgman. Fans line the roads in readiness for the following day’s action – especially true for the mountain stages here in the Pyrenees – and they are in party mood. As we ride, it is to a backdrop of cheers and encouragement from the roadside.

The peak of Soulor is heaving. The French team are here, along with a commercial operator running paid-for experiences of the whole route, so the InternationElles are never alone on the road for long. The women even recognise some travelling fans from previous stages.

As each rider rolls up, they’re applauded, high-fived and offered a drink from some supermarket-bought party cups that have shifted from being a source of embarrassment to an emblem of their low budget endeavour.

Girls on Tour

How have the women of the InternationElles been finding the route of the Tour de France?

The immensely pretty Col du Soulor gets rave reviews, even from low-lander Carmen Acampo, who has only been riding for two years and never gone near a mountain, yet acquits herself admirably. However, opinions on other stages from the first two weeks are split between the climbers and rouleurs in the group.

La Planche des Belles Filles in the Vosges Mountains (Stage 6) is named as both the best and worst, with comments ranging from ‘So good, I loved it!’ to ‘Gruesome. I thought I was going to have to walk.’ But the ‘boring’ 230km Stage 7 gets most votes as the worst.

As with the climbs, the women take the descents at their own pace, then regroup. The descent we are on from the Soulor down to Arrens is among the best anywhere – fast, flowing, well surfaced and encouragingly cambered – and the grins confirm it afterwards.

Once down into Vallée Lavedan, the sight of the two support vans parked up signifies a welcome lunch stop under the shade of some trees. It isn’t quite WorldTour level nutrition – baguettes, cheese, ham, pasta, crisps – but it gets the job done and there’s simply no time to prepare anything fancier.

As Sharp explains, ‘After the transfer and then making and eating dinner, we’re usually going to bed at 11:30pm and breakfast is always at 6:30am, so we’re getting seven hours of sleep at best. We’re self-funded, so we’re staying in AirBnBs, sometimes five or six girls to a room, so we’re getting to know each other pretty well!’

Alex Chart says she feels like the fatigue has hit a plateau by this point: ‘It’s been getting better. Off the bike I feel horrendous, and then on the bike within half an hour I feel loads better once my legs are going.’

For Pippa Lyon, the lunch stop is also a chance for a cuddle with her 11-month-old son who is travelling around the whole route with her parents in a campervan. As a Brit living in Sydney, the Tour has provided some special family time as a bonus.

All too soon, crew member Rob calls out, ‘That’s 25 minutes. We roll in five!’ With such long days to get through, the discipline keeps them on schedule. As lunch is packed away, bottles topped up and Boa dials retightened, the French team sets off just ahead.

Before our legs have woken up again after the break, we’re into the beautiful Gorge Luz and rolling on asphalt so new it has yet to be painted and still smells strongly of tar. This pristine road surface has been laid specifically for the arrival of the Tour, such is the race’s importance to the regions around France.

Where there’s a will…

If the Tour can have new roads created every year, it makes it hard for organiser ASO to site logistics as the reason why it can’t hold a women’s version of the race.

True, the Tour de France is a travelling city, a vast operation that stretches the resources of host towns to their limits, especially when it comes to hotel beds. But it isn’t twice the work to have two races pass under every erected gantry and along every part of the meticulously planned parcours.

ASO has made some progress, but the feeling is that it is doing just enough to deflect pressure from the women’s sport, rather than leading the charge like the dominant power that it is.

There are women’s versions of La Flèche Wallonne, Liège-Bastogne-Liège, Tour de Yorkshire and Tour of Norway, but the Tour de France and Vuelta a Espana only get short, one-day races that smack of appeasement. Paris-Roubaix, for all its versions, has no women’s race, nor Paris-Nice, yet both these ASO-organised events manage to put on sportives for amateurs.

Sharp sums it up succinctly: ‘I can see it’s difficult, but it can’t be beyond the powers of an operation such as ASO to put on a women’s Tour de France.’

Perhaps women’s cycling doesn’t need a Tour of Oman (nor, perhaps, want one) but La Grande Boucle is the very pinnacle of the sport – of all sport – and one of the most watched events in the world. What sort of message does it send that women are excluded?

In fairness, ASO is far from the only one falling short. The Velon organisation was created in 2014 to accelerate the development of road cycling and launched the Hammer Series in 2017, of which the first women’s race will only take place next year. Velon is owned by 11 WorldTour teams and part of the problem is that only five of them have women’s squads.

As we hit the Col du Tourmalet, legs softened by the drag up through the gorge, my computer is showing 35ºC and the road is heavy with traffic as fans pour onto the mountain ahead of the next day’s highly anticipated stage.

The Super Barèges ski station halfway up is packed with campervans and they line the road far above us, picking it out from the mountain like a highlighter pen.

I climb alongside new mum Pippa, who clearly wasted no time in regaining exceptional fitness. There are hundreds of other riders on the Tourmalet today, very few of whom have 2,000km weighing heavy in their legs, and we are overtaken by precisely no one. Male or female.

The team regroups at the summit, cheering each other home and downing drinks from the superb support crew. There’s little chance to revel in the moment, though. There’s a three-hour transfer between them and dinner, and the small matter of the even harder Stage 15 lying in wait.

The riding may be tough, but if one day there is a proper three-week Tour de France for women, then the InternationElles will be able to claim that they led the way.

You can learn more about the team here: internationelles.com


Julian Alaphilippe: the Tour de France people’s champion

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Joe Robinson
29 Jul 2019

Sure, Egan Bernal took home yellow, but it was Alaphilippe who reminded us why we love cycling

Words: Joe Robinson Photography: Presse Sports/Offside

As he stood on the podium, Julian Alaphilippe bit down on his bottom lip, scrunched his nose and pumped his fists above his head. Grasping a large red number one given to the race’s most aggressive rider, his smile straightened as the realisation of the last three weeks sunk in. Taking a breath, he smiled again, bouncing off the stage and back down to the fans below.

In Paris, Alaphilippe was afforded one more moment in the sun. One last chance to absorb the admiration of a public that he reminded about their love of cycling.

He deserved it because after three weeks of racing around France, Alaphilippe was not crowned the actual Tour de France champion but he was crowned the Tour de France people’s champion.

Egan Bernal won the Tour de France. Nothing can be taken away from his achievements of this 22-year-old. The third youngest ever to win the Tour, the youngest in the yellow jersey era. The first Colombian, the first South American.

His climbing performances in the Alps were phenomenal. He blew away the competition on the high-altitude slopes of the Galibier and then the Iseran. That’s what will go down in history, that’s what will be etched into the record books.

But Bernal will have to share the adoration of Tour champion with Alaphilippe as, after all, what he did over three weeks of this race is what reignited cycling’s love of the Tour.

For three weeks, Alaphilippe raced like a boxer, going 21 rounds with nothing to lose. His first punch coming on the slopes of the Cote de Mutigny, 12km from the Stage 3 finish line in Epernay. That was enough to take yellow.

He took a blow in the sixth, fighting and losing yellow on La Planche des Belles Filles only to bounce back off the ropes swinging into Sainte-Etienne, snatching yellow back.

His bigger, badder opponents thought they smelt blood on the Stage 13 time-trial around Pau. Most saw him losing time, some even thought it could be the end of the jersey.

But in cinematic, underdog fashion, Alaphilippe rode into Pau to deafening roars to extend his lead.

Then came the Tourmalet on the 14th, surely the high summit would be the knockout blow but, no, Alaphilippe came to fight. Adam Yates, dropped. Dan Martin, dropped. Nairo Quintana, dropped. Geraint Thomas, dropped.

By the summit, only Thibaut Pinot managed to get the better of Alaphilippe.

As the race entered its 18th round and three days in the Alps, rivals were beginning to get worried. Say if he doesn’t fade? Say if we cannot drop him? Cracks showed on the Galibier. As Bernal disappeared up the mountain, Alaphilippe began to fade.

It looked as if the dream was over. But like the prizefighter he is, Alaphilippe bounced off the ropes. Limiting his loses on the uphill, he salvaged them all back on the downhill, even having the audacity to catch the group of favourites and move immediately to the front of the pack, puffing out his chest, showing everyone he wasn’t done yet.

It was admirable but it showed us Alaphilippe was tired and just 24 hours later, he was being left behind, this time on the slopes of the Col de l’Iseran, the Tour’s highest summit.

Seconds shed as he took punch after punch. Alaphilippe’s guard had dropped and the likes of Bernal, Thomas and Kruiswijk smelt blood. Bad weather and landslides probably did Alaphilippe a favour, he was only ever losing more time on the way to Tignes.

Then by the penultimate day, the rider who had stood strong all Tour was seeing stars. As the pace increased, Alaphilippe showed weakness, human fragility, watching the chance of a podium slip from his fingers into Val Thorens.

The Tour de France is theatrical, it’s a circus but it’s not Hollywood. If it were, Alaphilippe would have ridden into the Parisian sunset dressed in yellow. In reality, the 27-year-old just about managed to hold on to fifth place.

But that doesn’t matter because Alaphilippe’s Tour was much more than just a fifth-place finish, two stage wins and 14 days in yellow - and that’s not to be sniffed at.

It was a performance that reminded a nation why they love cycling. France fell in love with the Tour again. Cycling fans fell in love with the Tour again.

Every climb that Alaphilippe tackled, he was met with a roar of belief and love. Urged to the top by everyone from roadside regulars to young girls on the shoulders of their fathers getting their first taste of the Tour.

Each day he adorned the front of the national press. French President Emmanual Macron even made the trip out to the Tourmalet to get a picture in the hope it could boost his approval ratings. Such was the spell Alaphilippe cast, even Team Ineos largely escaped their usual boos and criticism.

People are calling this the best Tour de France since 2011. Some are sure this is the best Tour de France since 1989 and LeMond vs Fignon.

They are saying this not because of the route - although that was good too - but because of the way a young Frenchman from the Centre-Val de Loire region took the race by the scruff of the neck.

For anybody wanting to get their young son or daughter into cycling, show them what Alaphilippe did over the past three weeks.

And not just the audacious racing with panache but also the graciousness of how he took and conceded yellow, wrapping his yellow jersey around a shivering child at the top of a mountain and greeting his fans with open arms despite having just lost the race lead.

Alaphilippe reminded us that the Tour de France is cycling’s most beautiful race. The marquee event of this incredible sport.

Three weeks ago, Alaphilippe was the world’s best one-day race. He was also one of the best stage hunters in the peloton and probably one of cycling’s most complete riders.

But now, the morning after the night before, Alaphilippe is probably the best road cyclist in the world with literally the world ahead of him, and he won’t let it go to his head.

His poster will likely decorate the walls of kids' rooms all over France now and he will have definitely inspired the next generation to dream that they can one day win the Tour, or at the very least, do what Julian did. Make a country dream again.

RideLondon weekend 2019: Routes, riders, sportive and all you need to know

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Cyclist magazine
29 Jul 2019

Key information about the 2019 RideLondon weekend: Route, riders, live TV guide & previous winners

The Prudential RideLondon returns again this weekend for two packed days of cycling that includes mass participation sportives, closed-road riding around the capital and professional cycle races.

The Saturday day is arguably the most enjoyable part of the whole weekend when the centre of London is closed to motor vehicles and families are able to ride in peace in a way that is rarely afforded on a normal day on the traffic-choked and polluted roads.

The FreeCycle includes an eight-mile loop and several Festival Zones which all provides for a fantastic day out taking you past Buckingham Palace, St Paul's Cathedral and Waterloo Bridge.

Further, the London Cycling Campaign runs led rides from all London Boroughs to take people to the closed circuit, making the event accessible for less confident riders.

Later in the afternoon, some of the world's best women cyclists take to the circuit for the Classique crit race.

To finish off the day, over 600 suit-clad men and women will take to The Mall to compete in the official Brompton World Championships to see who is crowned the quickest commuter of them all.

RideLondon-Surrey 100

The main events of the weekend take place on Sunday 3rd August. Kicking off at the eye-wateringly early time of 05:40, the Ride100 sportive starts in the Olympic Park and finishes on The Mall in front of Buckingham Palace.

In between those tourist attractions the closed-road route heads out into the Surrey Hills, climbs Newlands Corner, Leith Hill and Box Hill and then makes its rapid return to the centre of London.

A sportive, not a race, plenty of people set a far faster time than they were expecting thanks to the drafting effect of the many other riders and the speedy nature of the course.

Unfortunately, there are also plenty of people who think they're so pro that they litter the countryside with their gel wrappers and ride dangerously and aggressivey. It's a real mix.

A recent addition to the timetable are the 46 and 19-mile options for the sportive, a good idea to expand the appeal of the event but these routes miss the best of the countryside and the key climbs.

The sportives are followed by the men's race, which from 2017 onwards is a WorldTour event.

RideLondon-Surrey Classic 2019: Key information

Date: Sunday 3rd August 2019
Start: Horse Guards Parade, London (13:40)
Finish: The Mall, London (17:55-18:20 estimated)
Distance: 169km
Television coverage: Live coverage on BBC TV on Sunday 3rd August. Check TV listings for details

RideLondon-Surrey Classic men's race

The Prudential RideLondon-Surrey Classic takes place on Sunday 29th July. Now building up to its seventh edition, it has become the UK’s premier one-day race.

First run in 2011 as a test event for the London 2012 Olympics road race the following year, the inaugural edition was won by Mark Cavendish.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to convert his success into Olympic gold, but British fans’ enthusiasm for the event has continued undimmed ever since.

After skipping a year for the Olympics in 2012, the race has since grown into a weekend-long festival of cycling, encompassing traffic-free events in London, the RideLondon-Surrey Classic pro race, and the massively popular 100-mile closed-road sportive.

RideLondon-Surrey Classic 2019: Route

A well-established route, with a couple of tweaks to keep things fresh. Setting off from Bushy Park as opposed to the usual set-up in Horse Guards Parade in central London, the peloton misses the cycling hotspot of Richmond Park for a first time.

Following much of the 2012 Olympic route, and passing through Walton-on-Thames, Weybridge and Ripley, the climb of Staple Lane is one of the first tests.

Into the green and rolling Surrey Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, the abridged route avoid the climbs of Ranmore Common and Leith Hill for something new.

Unlike previous years, Box Hill will feature on five occasions as the peloton tackle a loop of the popular climb, softening the legs of the sprinters suitably. This area will also double-up as a free-to-attend fan zone, too.

With around 50 kilometres to regroup after the last major climb, the riders will pass through Leatherhead, Oxshott and Esher on their way back to the capital.

Heading into London riders will need to navigate a final climb at Wimbledon Hill before crossing north over Putney Bridge. Following the Thames into town the riders will dash through Parliament Square and up Whitehall.

The flamme rouge comes just before Trafalgar Square, where they'll turn left under Admiralty Arch and head towards Buckingham Palace for the conclusive 500-metre sprint along The Mall.

RideLondon Classique women's race

The RideLondon Classique women's race will take place on Saturday 2nd August 2019. A criterium around Central London, the race slots into the weekend schedule between the FreeCycle earlier that day and the sportive the next morning.

The Women's WorldTour event tackles a 3.4km circuit from The Mall, up Constitution Hill before turning and heading back on to Birdcage Walk.

From here, it spins around as the route passes Horse Guards Parade then sharply left back on to the Mall.

In total, the women's peloton will complete 20 laps to cover a distance of 68km.

High-velocity racing that's exciting to watch, but not really on the level of a full road race as is afforded to the men the next day. Perhaps this will change in the coming years. 

RideLondon-Surrey Classic start list

The men's RideLondon-Surrey takes in the famous roads of Central London before winding its way out through the bumpy hills of Surrey before returning to the Mall. 

The race has been dominated by sprinters in its first six editions. Among the previous winners are Mark Cavendish, Arnuad Demare and Tom Boonen.

Defending champion Alexander Kristoff (UAE-Team Emirates) will not be in attendance due to racing the ongoing Tour de France. Riders who will be tipped as favourites for victory will be Michael Matthews (Team Sunweb), Elia Viviani (Quick-Step Floors) and Sam Bennett (Bora-Hansgrohe).

AG2R La Mondiale

Nico Denz (GER)
Julien Duval (FRA)
Quentin Jauregui (FRA)
Dorian Gordon (FRA)
Oliver Naesen (FRA)
Stijn Vandenbergh (BEL)
Clement Venturini (FRA)

Bahrain-Merida

Yukiya Arashiro (JAP)
Phil Bauhaus (GER)
Sonny Colbrelli (ITA)
Chun Kai Feng (HKG)
Ivan Cortina (ESP)
Heinrich Haussler (AUS)
Marcel Sieberg (GER)

CCC Team

Nathan Van Hooydonck (BEL)
Patrick Bevan (NZL)
Michael Schar (SUI)
Gijs van Hoecke (BEL)
Guillaume van Keirsbulck (BEL)
Francisco Ventoso (ESP)
Lukasz Wisniowski (POL)

Bora-Hansgrohe 

Sam Bennett (IRL)
Andreas Schillinger (GER)
Jempy Drucker (LUX)
Shane Archibold (AUS)
Erik Baska (SLO)
Juraj Sagan (SLO)

Lotto-Soudal

Adam Blythe (GBR)
Stan Dewulf (BEL)
Caleb Ewan (AUS)
Frederik Frison (BEL)
Rasmus Iversen (DEN)
Nikolas Mas (BEL)
Gerben Thijssen (BEL)

Mitchelton-Scott 

Michael Hepburn (AUS)
Daryl Impey (RSA)
Callum Scotson (AUS)
Cameron Meyer (AUS)
Michael Albasini (SUI)
Robert Stannard (AUS)
Jack Bauer (NZL)

Deceuninck-QuickStep

Philippe Gilbert (BEL)
Alvaro Hodeg (COL)
Iljo Keisse (BEL)
Davide Martinelli (ITA)
Michael Morkov (DEN)
Zdenek Stybar (CZE)
Elia Viviani (ITA)

Dimension-Data

Ryan Gibbons (RSA)
Reinardt Janse Van Rensburg (RSA)
Giacomo Nizzolo (ITA)
Mark Renshaw (AUS)
Jay Robert Thomson (RSA)
Rasmus Tiller (NOR)
Julien Vermote (BEL)

Education First

Matti Breschel (DEN)
Mitchell Docker (AUS)
Moreno Hofland (AUS)
Sebatian Langeveld (NED)
Dan McLay (GBR)
Taylor Phinney (USA)
Sep Vanmarke (BEL)

Katusha-Alpecin 

Jenthe Biermans (BEL)
Alex Dowsett (GBR)
Jens Debusschere (BEL)
Marco Haller (GER)
Nils Politt (GER)
Harry Tanfield (GBR)
Rick Zabel (GER)

Jumbo-Visma

Amund Jansen (NOR)
Pascal Eenkhoorn (NED)
Jos Van Emden (NED)
Tom Leezer (NED)
Timo Roosen (NED)
Mike Teunissen (NED)
Maarten Wynants (BEL)

Team Ineos

Kristoffer Halvorsen (NOR)
Christopher Lawless (GBR)
Leonardo Basso (ITA)
Eddie Dunbar (IRL)
Filippo Ganna (ITA)
Christian Knees (GER)

Team Sunweb 

Nikias Arndt (GER)
Roy Curvers (NED)
Lennard Kamna (GER)
Michael Matthews (AUS)
Joris Niewenhuis (NED)
Casper Pedersen (DEN)
Martijn Tusveld (NED)

Trek-Segafredo

Koen de Kort (NED)
Alex Frame (NZL)
Alex Kirsch (LUX)
Matteo Moschetti (ITA)
Ryan Mullen (IRL)
Jasper Stuyven (BEL)
Edward Theuns (BEL)

UAE-Team Emirates 

Tom Bohli (SUI)
Marco Marcato (ITA)
Rui Oliveira (POR)
Jasper Philipsen (BEL)
Rory Sutherland (AUS)
Alexander Kristoff (NED)

Total-Direct Energie

Niccolo Bonifazio (ITA)
Thomas Boudat (FRA)
Romain Cardis (FRA)
Pim Ligthart (NED)
Adrien Petit (FRA)
Alezandre Pichot (FRA)
Angelo Tulik (FRA)

Israel Cycling Academy

Davide Cimolai (ITA)
Conor Dunne (IRL)
August Jensen (NOR)
Mihkel Raim (EST)
Guy Sagiv (ISR)
Tom van Asbroeck (BEL)
Dennis Van Winden (NED)

Great Britain

Matthew Walls (GBR)
Ethan Hayter (GBR)
James Shaw (GBR)
Scott Thwaites (GBR)
Gabriel Cullagh (GBR)
Thomas Stewart (GBR)

Delko Marseille Provence

Julien El Fares (FRA)
Iuri Filosi (ITA)
Alexis Guerin (FRA)
Brenton Jones (AUS)
Ramunas Navardauskas (LTH)
Fabien Schmidt (FRA)
Julien Trarieux (FRA)

RideLondon Classique women's startlist

Ale-Cipollini

Chloe Hosking (AUS)
Jessica Raimondi (ITA)
Marjolien Van Geloof (NED)
Karlijn Swinkels (NED)
Romy Kasper (GER)

Boels-Dolmans

Amalie Dideriksen (DEN)
Chantal Blaak (NED)
Jip Van Den Bos (NED)
Eva Buurman (NED)
Jolien d'Hoore (BEL)
Christine Majerus (LUX)

Canyon-Sram 

Alice Barnes (GBR)
Alexis Ryan (USA)
Rotem Gafinovitz (ISR)
Christa Riffel (GER)
Ella Harris (NZL)
Tiffany Cromwell (AUS)

Valcar Cylance Pro Cycling

Elisa Balsamo (ITA)
Vittoria Guazzini (ITA)
Chiara Consonni (ITA)
Silvia Persico (ITA)
Ilaria Sanguineti (ITA)
Maria Confalonieri (ITA)

FDJ-Nouvelle Aquitaine - Futuroscope

Eugenie Duval (FRA)
Coralie Demay (FRA)
Clara Copponi (FRA)
Marelle Grossetete (FRA)
Lauren Kitchen (AUS)

Rally Cycling 

Sara Bergen (CAN)
Emma White (USA)
Katherine Maine (CAN)
Allison Beveridge (CAN)
Gillian Ellsay (CAN)
Summer Moak (USA)

Hitec Products

Lucy Van Der Haar (GBR)
Julie Meye Solvang (NOR)
Marta Tagliaferro (ITA)
Pernille Feldmann (NOR)
Grace Garner (GBR)
Lonneke Uneken (NED)

Team Sunweb

Susanne Andersen (NOR)
Pfeiffer Georgi (GBR)
Leah Kirchmann (CAN)
Floortje Mackaij (NED)
Coryn Rivera (USA)
Julia Soek (NED)

Team Tibco - Silicon Valley Bank

Kendall Ryan (USA)
Nina Kessler (NED)
Alison Jackson (CAN)
Brodie Chapman (AUS)
Shannon Malseed (AUS)
Alice Cobb (GBR)

Team Virtu Cycling

Marta Bastianelli (ITA)
Barbara Guarischi (ITA)
Christina Siggaard (DEN)
Emilie Moberg (NOR)
Mieke Kroger (GER)
Trine Schmidt (DEN)

Drops

Elinor Barker (GBR)
Megan Barker (GBR)
Eleanor Dickinson (GBR)
Elizabeth Holden (GBR)
Manon Lloyd (GBR)
Abby-Mae Parkinson (GBR)

WNT Rotor Pro Cycling

Kristin Wild (NED)
Lisa Brennauer (GER)
Claudia Koster (NED)
Sarah Rijkes (AUS)
Lara Vieceli (ITA)
Lea Lin Teutenberg (GER)

Trek-Segafredo

Audrey Cordon-Ragot (FRA)
Lauretta Hanson (AUS)
Lotta Lepisto (FIN)
Letizia Paternoster (ITA)
Anna Plichta (POL)
Abigail Van Twisk (GBR)

Lotto Soudal

Lotte Kopecky (BEL)
Dani Christmas (GBR)
Annelies Dom (BEL)
Alana Castrique (BEL)
Danique Braam (NED)
Chantal Hoffman (LUX)

Parkhotel Valkenburg

Lorena Wiebes (NED)
Femke Markus (NED)
Janine Van Der Meer (NED)
Sylvie Swinkels (NED)
Meike Uitewijk Winkel (NED)

CCC-Liv

Valeria Demey (BEL)
Evy Kuijpers (NED)
Marianne Vos (NED)
Jeanne Korevaar (NED)
Riejanne Markus (NED)
Agineszka Skalniak (POL)

Riders to watch at RideLondon-Surrey Classic 2017

Andre Greipel (Lotto Soudal)

Although there’s always the possibility of a breakaway spoiling their fun, the RideLondon-Surrey Classic is traditionally a race for the sprinters.

In recent years Andre Greipel has been one of the most prolific, with 22 Grand Tour wins to his name. He’s found himself on the bottom step of the podium three times already but has yet to convert his finishing prowess into a stage win.

With the sprint focused Lotto-Soudal team behind him he’s likely to be a threat at the RideLondon-Surrey Classic.

Fernando Gaviria (Quick-Step Floors)

At 22-years-old Gaviria has already won the green jersey competition at the Giro d'Italia this season. Choosing to skip the Tour de France he should arrive at the RideLondon-Surrey Classic fresher than some of his rivals.

His former teammate Tom Boonen won the RideLondon-Surrey Classic last year, so the squad know how to race the route.

Michael Matthews (Team Sunweb)

The recently crowned Green Jersey of the 2017 Tour de France, the Australian Michael Matthews is another established sprinter with multiple podiums, but as yet no wins from this year’s race.

His Sunweb squad is likely to come under less pressure at the RideLondon-Surrey Classic and will look to mob the front of the race in support of their man.

Caleb Ewan (Orica-Scott)

Another Australian on a sprint-orientated team. Compared to compatriot Matthews, Ewan will have the advantage of fresher legs having ridden the Giro, where he won a stage, but not the Tour.

The points winner at the Tour de Yorkshire this year, he’ll be hoping for another successful trip to the UK.

Elia Viviani (Team Sky)

Viviani may be Italian, but anyone in Team Sky kit is likely to receive warm support from the crowd. That’s assuming he is wearing Team Sky kit come the RideLondon-Surrey Classic.

Viviani is rumoured to be transferring to UAE Team Emirates on 1st August, having so far been left benched for the Tour and Giro. Although his form is something of an unknown, assuming he doesn’t get snubbed Viviani should be a serious contender.

RideLondon-Surrey Classic 2017: The Teams

UCI WorldTour

Bora-Hansgrohe (Germany)
BMC Racing (USA)
Cannondale-Drapac (USA)
Lotto NL-Jumbo (Netherlands)
Lotto-Soudal (Belgium)
Orica-Scott (Australia)
Quick-Step Floors (Belgium)
Dimension Data (South Africa)
Katusha-Alpecin (Switzerland)
Team Sky (Great Britain)
Team Sunweb (Germany)
Trek Segafredo (USA)
UAE Team Emirates (UAE)

UCI Pro Continental

Androni - Sidermec – Bottecchia (Italy)
Aqua Blue Sport (Ireland)
Caja Rural Seguros RGA (Spain)
CCC Sprandi Polkowice (Poland)
Israel Cycling Academy (Israel)
Wanty – Groupe Gobert (Belgium)
Sport Vlaanderen-Baloise (Belgium)
Wilier Triestina – Selle Italia (Italy)

RideLondon-Surrey Classic 2017: Previous Winners

2011: Mark Cavendish (GBr)
2013: Arnaud Démare (FRA)
2014: Adam Blythe (GBr)
2015: Jempy Drucker (LUX)
2016: Tom Boonen (BEL)

Brexit and the bicycle: What could a no deal departure from the EU mean for cycling?

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Peter Stuart
30 Jul 2019

Will leaving the EU without a deal make bikes cheaper or more expensive? And how will it affect your favourite brands? Cyclist investigates

When the result of the EU referendum was announced at 4.39am on 23rd June 2016, the price of bike parts probably wasn’t the first thing on your mind. As we reach the most crucial part of the Brexit process so far, let's first look at what has already come to pass for the world of cycling, and what the implications of Boris Johnson's No Deal Brexit strategy could be.

The currency conondrum

‘There weren’t any immediate consequences,’ says Dominic Langan, CEO of Madison, the UK’s largest distributor and importer of cycling products.

True enough, prices stayed largely the same and retailers are trading just as before. But what we in the consumer world are blissfully unaware of is the intricate nature of how currency works in the bike industry, and how it has led to prices creeping up over the past year. 

‘The main issue is that the entire industry pretty much buys everything in US dollars,’ Langan says. The reason for this is a little complicated, but it revolves around Taiwan and the Far East being the centre of global bicycle production. 

‘Almost all high-performance bikes are made in factories in the Far East,’ says Cam Whiting, an industry veteran and commentator who runs market intelligence site CyclingiQ.com.

‘When you buy from a European brand such as Scott or Cannondale Europe, they’ll generally buy in US dollars from Taiwan or China.’

The dollar is king even with wholly EU-based brands, but the dollars that the industry was buying stock with immediately after the Brexit vote are not the same dollars against which the pound crashed as the drama around the vote unfolded.

Whiting says, ‘Cycling companies will usually buy currency using something called hedging. You’re basically locking in an exchange rate for a certain period of time, which gives you some security in what you’ll be paying over the term you’ll be paying for.’ 

As a result, much of the stock of bikes and parts bought since the Brexit vote was bought using dollars purchased before the referendum took place.

When companies had spent all of their dollars, so to speak, those companies then had to buy more at a higher rate, which saw prices edge up over the last 18 months.

‘Basically the customer is going to see changes on pricing and obviously, it’s going the wrong way,’ says James Backhouse, marketing director at Evans Cycles.

The extra cost to distributors will in most cases continue to be passed on to retailers and consumers, which can only mean a steady increase in prices. But what does the more pressing prospect of a no deal Brexit mean for cycling in the long term?

Building barriers 

In theory, the EU is a trade bloc at heart, geared towards removing trade barriers, customs duties and general import taxes between states.

For cycling that’s hugely beneficial as stock and components can move freely from one country to another.

If the Withdrawal Agreement drafted by Theresa May was ever passed in Parliament, we would see little change to that pattern of trade, and the only significant effects to the market would be the result of further change to the value of the pound.

Outside of the customs union, however, a brand running out of a certain type of shoes, tyres or wheels in the UK won’t be able to react with the same fluidity to meet demand.

Even test bikes for Cyclist will require complex temporary export permits to avoid hefty customs charges, as bikes from the USA or Switzerland currently require.

Stepping back, though, it's worth noting that the cycling industry hasn’t always taken advantage of the greatest opportunities of a free trading bloc. It has often operated as if these free trade opportunities were not in place.

‘Clearly a single market makes life easier, but my hunch is not much will change,’ Langan says. The structure of the UK cycling market is that importers, or distributors, bring in products from overseas and sell them in the UK.

The EU means it is much easier for a European company to sell directly to UK consumers, which is a key factor in the success of direct-to-market brands such as Canyon. 

Despite this opportunity, however, many brands have stuck to the more traditional model of using UK distributors. 

‘I think it’s fair of us to ask – why aren’t more European brands selling in the UK directly?’ says Whiting. The extra links in the supply chain from the EU has left open goals for some opportunists – most obviously online retailers such as Wiggle. 

‘Wiggle can buy grey market stock from a factory that has surplus or approach a brand and offer to sell directly into their UK distributors’ territory,’ Whiting explains.

‘And in desperate times people have elected to take that option.’

It seems the days of Wiggle and Chain Reaction’s pricing dominance could be limited outside of the EU, but it could be some time before we see how Brexit will affect the future of e-commerce sites. 

One conseuqence of leaving the customs union is that giants such as Wiggle CRC also often keep stock delivered to the UK overseas for cost-efficiency.

Should Britain fall into recession, one comforting reminder is the success of the UK bike industry the last time the economy went into decline.

‘We performed well during the 2008 recession,’ says Evans’ Backhouse. ‘There could be a number of theories behind that but generally cycling is a fairly recession-proof industry because cycling is a very cost effective means of transport and leisure.’ 

And there’s something else. Amid the risks and complications, Brexit does present some great opportunities. 

It’s a free country 

There was a lot of talk during the run-up to the Brexit vote about the prospect of trade deals with countries such as China. For the world of cycling products, such deals could have significant consequences.

That’s all because of the intricate world of anti-dumping duties, which the prospect of a no deal departure could change substantially.

‘The Chinese anti-dumping duty is basically a protective measure by the EU to prevent China, where the bicycle industry is assisted by the state, from making really cheap cycling products and dumping them in other countries,’ says Whiting.

‘So the EU put in place a 48.5% tariff on Chinese bicycle imports as a punitive measure.’ 

As a result of that duty, few brands are able to manufacture bikes entirely in China, which could otherwise offer much cheaper bikes to UK consumers.

Whether the UK would still wish to (or even be able to) implement this anti-dumping duty if it resorted to WTO rules is unclear.

The WTO has more stringent criteria for applying anti-dumping measures than the EU. Of couse that could spell problems if China were to engage in damaging dumping practices – loading the UK market with such cheap bikes that UK industry is completely eroded.

But for now, we'll focus on whether this could have beneficial effect of reducing prices. 

While anti-dumping measures should increase the price of Chinese bikes sold in the UK, it's worth noting that most brands have already devised methods of limiting the effects of anti-dumping tarrifs under current trading patterns.

For instance, even recent Chinese crowd-funded start-up SpeedX established a German facility to assemble its bikes to bypass the enormous tax.

Despite that, some still believe that the duty does little for the UK economy. 

‘Many of the duties we have to pay on products coming into the UK are there to protect manufacturing in Europe,’ argues Langan.

‘It certainly helps Germany, France and some of the eastern European countries. As we don’t have a great deal of manufacturing in the UK within the bicycle industry, and we now import most of our bikes subject to those duties, it isn’t such an advantage to us.

'Trade deals could result in duties being reduced or removed and this would allow us to lower pricing to benefit the consumer.’

These duties have also influenced the geography of the bike industry itself. The prospect of anti-dumping duty has kept much of the higher end of the industry in Taiwan, but China is a giant of production.

Whiting suggests China could be eager to steal more of the share of the global bike-building business if the UK were suddenly able to import Chinese products more freely: ‘I tend to think whenever there’s an opportunity for a business to make more money, Chinese firms will do whatever it takes to increase their profits.’ 

There’s a chance, then, that a total departure from the EU could affect the balance of the global industry.

The stage is no longer set 

Perhaps the last worry for the UK cyclist is the professional sport of cycling. Should customs charges and visas come into the equation, suddenly hosting a stage of the Tour de France or Giro d’Italia in the UK could become a costly and burdensome prospect.

‘Would that be as appealing if you could no longer freely move goods and transport people between economies?’ Whiting asks.

Indeed, before the extension of Article 50, the UCI has already highlighted some potential issues with the World Championships in 2019 in Yorkshire.

‘It’s going to be a lot more complicated in the future,’ Whiting adds.

At present we can only speculate on what will happen, but a Brexit which sees the UK leave current customs and trade arrangements will impact the bike market heavily, not only on prices but on which brands are most readily available and on the nations that make up the industry. Will that be for better or worse? 

‘I’m confident that in the long run it will all be OK,’ Langan thinks.

It can’t hurt to be optimistic. 

Me and my bike: Baum Cycles

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James Spender
31 Jul 2019

The Baum Orbis is the product of a 16-year-old kid’s dream and three decades of hard graft

While France and Italy will be forever locked in battle for the crown of cycling’s spiritual home (while Flanders looks in on mock amusement, no doubt), it should not be overlooked that in modern times cycling has enjoyed a worldwide renaissance courtesy of burgeoning cycling scenes around the globe, each with its own unique flavour.

Take the US: it has pushed the off-road envelope and in so doing sewn its laid-back gravel seeds across The Pond.

South East Asia has a near-insatiable appetite for classic steel racers and ‘looking pro’, right down to team kits being de rigeur.

And Australia? Well, Australia is possibly best summed up by Baum Cycles, which for nearly two decades has been pushing the custom-handmade model to its limits from its home in Geelong, on the outskirts of Melbourne.

It would seem Aussies like real, specialist stuff, so long as the bike has something to say for itself.

‘This might look like a relatively simple bike – the custom paint aside, of course – but it’s anything but,’ says Baum’s European importer, Martijn Knol of Bureau Fidder.

All about the ride

Knol represents a host of top-drawer brands, from Italian outfit Sarto to 3D-printed-ti-lugged-carbon-tube-maker Bastion. But it’s the Baum Orbis that draws Cyclist’s eye.

That name on the down tube comes from Baum’s founder, owner and master welder Darren Baum, who first picked up a brazing torch aged 16, having accepted that custom bikes were out of his price range but figuring he could just learn and do as good a job himself.

That was 1989, and that love of fabrication eventually took Baum into aircraft engineering, but bikes remained his passion, and by the early 2000s he was selling his titanium frames internationally, of which the Orbis bike now tops the tree.

‘The Orbis R is a road bike, but this is the gravel Orbis, which specifically means it has clearance for 34mm tyres,’ says Knol. ‘It’s fully custom, including the painting, which Baum also does.’

The tubes are chunky, like an aluminium bike’s. They blend smoothly into one another like carbon. The finish is glossy like painted steel, and yet the Orbis is none of these things.

It is made from titanium, but not just any titanium. 

‘All the tubes are custom-drawn by Baum,’ says Knol. ‘This is to suit the rider, to give the bike the specific level of stiffness and flex in the right areas.’

Stiffness is something Darren Baum is quite passionate about, explains Knol.

In broad strokes stiffness, thinks Baum, has been too highly prized for a number of years, with manufacturers putting it on a pedestal that is detrimental to other ride qualities such as handling and comfort.

Time was when framebuilders just had off-the-peg tubesets and a narrow band of tyre widths to play with when it came to ‘tuning’ the ride, but with the advent of more advanced manufacturing techniques and disc brakes, that has all opened up.

‘Now tyre choice is huge. We’re no longer stuck rolling on 23mm tyres because disc brakes mean frame space can be opened up to accommodate wider tyres with varying treads,’ says Knol.

‘By shaping things such as the chainstays, and reassessing geometry, there is a lot more for a builder like Baum to play around with.’

Nowhere else in the Orbis’s frame is that idea better encapsulated than in the chainstays.

At a glance they appear normal, but they are in fact quite heavily asymmetric and they run with girder-like girth from the T47 bottom bracket, starting oval then ending in a round-edged square profile at Baum’s own designed and made dropouts.

It’s a neat trick that’s far more than just aesthetic. First, a huge degree of a frame’s power transfer is derived from the chainstays, with wider usually meaning stiffer and more efficient.

Second, the square-end profiles maximise the surface area of the dropout welds and provide a neat mounting area for the flat-mount disc callipers.

Third, the asymmetry is due to the fact the driveside chainstay is lower than the non-driveside, which Baum says helps limit chain slap (important for an off-road machine), as there’s more space between the stay and the chain than on most other bikes.

It all helps give the Orbis a unique look and ‘exceptional cornering’, and the tube profile is rather endearingly called ‘squircle’.

Naturally, it’s all custom drawn and shaped in-house.

All about the details

Although the Orbis is a tough, gravel-ready bike, Knol is keen to stress it’s also highly adept on the road as well.

Full builds happily come in around 7.5kg and the frame is stiff, ‘but not too stiff’.

While geometry is, of course, custom, there are a few racing tweaks Baum has made based on what one might call a ‘fresher’ approach to framebuilding.

‘The bottom bracket is lower because pedals have changed, so it can be,’ says Knol, pointing to an idea some independent framebuilders have identified – but not necessarily as many mass manufacturers have adopted – that pedals are ever more compact in size, meaning pedal strike in cornering is less of an issue than it once was.

So the idea goes, a lower BB makes for a lower centre of gravity, and thus a racier, more planted bike.

Details like this might seem minor – millimetres in difference and imperceptible to the eye – but they are indicative of the holistic and forward-thinking approach that marks Baum out as a master builder.

How did Egan Bernal train to win the Tour de France?

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Zach Nehr
1 Aug 2019

What kind of riding do you need to do to win the Tour and how does that compare to other riders?

When it comes to preparing for the Tour de France, arguably the hardest sporting event on the planet, the question is often asked: how do the riders do it?

How do they prepare for the mountains, such as the Col de Tourmalet which climbs to over 2,000m?

How do they prepare for the crazy crosswind stages, where they reach speeds in excess of 70kmh on a flat road? And how do they prepare for being in the saddle for almost six hours a day for three consecutive weeks?

Every single rider’s approach to the Tour de France is different. Some like to race more than they train, others train more than they race. Some like to go to isolation – I mean, altitude – camps, while others prefer the comforts of home.

We are often asked how the Tour was won. Was it in the mountains? Was it in the time-trials? Was it in the crosswinds in the first week, or the Col de Tourmalet on Stage 14?

But instead of looking at the Tour de France alone, we probably need to look further back. Because the Tour de France is not won in July.

It's won in April, May, and June. It is won over the winter in December in January. And it is won in the years before that, with genetics and training, with great coaches and supportive clubs, and with the building of a passion for the sport of cycling.

So to get a sense of how the narrative of this year's Tour was really shaped, we went back and looked at the training and racing plans of several stand-out riders from this year’s Tour: Thomas de Gendt, Michael Woods, and the eventual winner Egan Bernal.

Perhaps we'd expect more similarities than differences when comparing their pre-Tour training plans, considering they are all training for the same exact race. But as you will see, that is completely wrong.

8 weeks out:

De Gendt: Eight weeks before Le Grand Depart, De Gendt was just finishing the first week of the Giro d’Italia. He spent 33 hours in the saddle, and climbed over 13,700 meters.

Woods: Woods spent the middle of May in Andorra, and eight weeks out from the Tour was just beginning what was a massive training block. He spent 30 hours in the saddle over the week and climbed over 16,000 meters, a very similar workload to the riders competing at the Giro.

Bernal: Less than a week before the start of the Giro d’Italia, Bernal crashed while training in Andorra and broke his collarbone. Remarkably, he was back on the bike just nine days later. Even more impressive was that Bernal had been riding on the turbo trainer in between.

He may have only had a couple days off the bike in total. Just inside eight weeks from the Tour, that meant Bernal was almost back to his normal training, putting over 19 hours in the saddle and climbing 9,500 meters in seven days.

He wasn't shying away from intensity either, performing plenty of threshold and sub-threshold efforts on the climbs, and taking a number of prominent Strava KOMs.

It is fascinating to see how closely Woods’ training resembled that of the riders competing in the Giro. They both spent a huge amount of time in the saddle, though of course Woods didn't come with the added intensity of racing.

Those not racing were still clearly putting out huge efforts in the mountains, on five and six hours rides not too dissimilar to the typical stage at the Giro.

With Bernal’s Giro plans derailed by his crash, his focus immediately turned to the Tour, and at the time that meant a supporting role for Chris Froome and Geraint Thomas.

*Note: Andorra sits at roughly 2,000m above sea level, so Woods and Bernal were already training at altitude, and their power numbers (below) would have been lower than at sea-level.

4 weeks out:

De Gendt: After finishing the Giro – and placing third in the final TT, no less – De Gendt took four days off before easing back into training. For his first two days back on the bike, he rode less than two hours each. A 90km ride over the weekend brought his 7-day total up to just 6.5 hours.

Woods: After a few weeks of training in Andorra, Woods headed to France to race the Critérium du Dauphiné. After finishing fifth on Stage 2, in a select group of expected Tour de France GC contenders and stage winners, Woods fell ill and was unable to start the final stage of the race.

Despite only riding six of the seven days, Woods still spent over 26 hours in the saddle and climbed over 11,000 meters.

His performance on Stage 2 required a weighted average power of 295W (4.61W/kg) for nearly 4.5 hours, including a 10-minute effort at 411W (6.42W/kg) in the race’s finale. 

Bernal: One month before the Tour, Bernal returned to racing at the Tour de Suisse. He put in a dominating performance throughout the week, dropping all of the GC favourites on back-to-back summit finishes, and riding two impressive time-trials to take the GC win over Rohan Dennis and Patrick Konrad.

On Sunday’s final stage – a three-mountain epic won by Hugh Carthy – Bernal finished with a weighted average power of nearly 5W/kg for over three hours of racing.

On each climb, he rode at above 5W/kg for over half an hour, including a 10-minute surge at 5.5W/kg as the climb hit 2,600 meters in height.

It is important to note that – like the 2019 Tour de France – the major climbs at the Tour de Suisse climb over 2,000-3,000m meters, which hurts the efforts of those less-acclimated, and favours those who were born at altitude such as Bernal.

Just four weeks away from the biggest race of the year, De Gendt barely rode, whereas Woods and Bernal were racing two of the hardest week-long races of the year: the Dauphiné and the Tour de Suisse.

But it all made sense in context – De Gendt was coming off of the Giro d’Italia: 100+ hours of racing in three weeks, attacking into breakaways, climbing snow-lined mountain passes, and nearly time-trialling to a stage win. It was a well-deserved rest.

2 weeks out:

De Gendt: Two weeks before the Tour, De Gendt returned home to Belgium to race the National Championships.

He placed sixth in the time-trial (averaging 393W, 5.7W/kg, and 49.1kmh, for 46 minutes – and still finishing two minutes down on winner Wout Van Aert) and 70th in the road race.

A total of just 15 hours in the saddle and with only 3,300 meters of climbing, De Gendt’s week was one of low-volume week punctuated by high race intensity.

Woods: A couple of weeks out, Woods was in Girona, along with Tejay Van Garderen and sports physiologist Dr. Allen Lim, at a highly structured pre-Tour training camp.

Their journey was chronicled in Velonews’ Beyond Limits, a series of videos and articles covering such topics as e-bike ‘motor pacing’, rider sweat rate, and the psychology of cycling.

Woods put in a solid week – 21 hours in the saddle with 9,100 meters of climbing – but this time the focus was on targeting specific intensities rather than volume.

With the help of ex-pro Tim Johnson, and teammate Taylor Phinney, Woods and Van Garderen performed race-simulation efforts on the climbs, riding at threshold (>400W, or 6W/kg for these guys), following surges, and settling back in to high tempo, all on rides as long as six hours.

Bernal: After a short rest following the Tour de Suisse, Bernal was back training at altitude in Andorra, and he put in a solid week of 23 hours of riding with 15,500m of climbing.

In addition to a near-six hour ride earlier in the week, Bernal knocked out some high-intensity intervals as well. One of his workouts consisted of 15-20 minute blocks at tempo (300W) with 10-second surges (600+W) every three minutes.

Within the same ride, Bernal did a 30-minute climb at 5.7W/kg, with the first 10 minutes being a series of 20/40sec: 20 seconds at 500+W followed by 40sec at ~310W.

It was National Championships week, and while most other riders travel home to compete for their National colours, only De Gendt chose to make the trek out of this group (Bernal raced the Colombian nationals back in February).

For Woods and Bernal, this is the time for super-focused training. That means altitude camps, mountainous rides, plenty of motor pacing, and no distractions.

1 week out:

De Gendt: After the National Championships, De Gendt never rode more than two hours prior to the start of the Tour. The hard work had been done, the miles were in the legs, and the form was good. All that was left now to do was rest.

Woods: Just five days out, Woods and Van Garderen headed out for one more epic ride in the mountains. By the end of the day, they’d spent over five hours in the saddle and climbed over 3,000m in 172 km.

They rode the climbs at a blistering pace – 5.0-6.0W/kg, for 20 to 30 minutes at a time. Their power charts were erratic for these efforts: over threshold on the steep bits, easier on the shallow sections, punching it around switchbacks, and sprinting to the top.

This was a race simulation day, the last day of hard work before resting before the Tour de France.

Bernal: Bernal closed out his training Andorra block with a huge ride on Monday, five hours in the mountains with a couple of long blocks (10-30 minutes) of tempo, followed by three hours of endurance riding.

After a full day of travel, Bernal met up with his Team INEOS teammates at a closed test track for TTT training. This day was just a short ride, of about 90 minutes, but Bernal covered over 69 km, an average of 41.5kmh.

The next day the riders were in Brussels, and Bernal spent nearly three hours in the saddle two days before the race. In total, this week wasn’t an extreme taper for Bernal, with still over 20 hours of riding over the week.

One week out from the Tour, most riders were focused on resting as much as possible. But Woods and Bernal were quite different – they wanted to arrive to the Tour fresh but also peaked.

Training hard at this point could lead to fatigue and burnout, but over-resting could lead to staleness and feeling ‘blocked’, which is the last thing these climbers want on Stage 6’s summit finish to La Planche des Belles Filles.

It is interesting to see that, four days out from the Tour, Woods and Bernal took a day completely off. Instead of easy training or just spinning the legs, they spent a day in bed – probably on an airplane, actually – their legs with nothing to do other than soak up the huge training load that has accumulated over the past few weeks.

1 day out:

De Gendt: The day before the Tour, De Gendt spent just an hour on the bike. Enough to spin the legs and keep the blood moving, but not enough to cause any kind of fatigue.

For De Gendt – an experienced pro with no personal ambitions for Stage 1 – openers are unnecessary. Easy pedalling at 200-250W is the only thing he needs.

Woods: EF Education First opted for a two-hour ride – as opposed to Lotto Soudal’s hour – the day before the Tour. Spinning around Brussels at less than 200W, Woods didn’t do any openers either. Just another couple hours of spinning the legs.

Bernal: *At the moment, Bernal hasn’t uploaded any rides to Strava after July 4th, two days before the start of the Tour. Hopefully he will upload his rides from the Tour, giving us a glimpse at what it takes to win the Tour de France.

One more day. For the riders, all that’s left to do is prime the engine and trust your training. One last ride to open up the legs – if they need it – and then it’s all about resting. Save as much mental, physical, and emotional energy as you can for the next three weeks.

Because you’re sure as hell gonna need it.

So what happened? 

De Gendt put on a show and soloed to the win on Stage 8 of this year’s Tour. After spending over 200km in the break, the Belgian pulled away from his last breakaway companion on the final climb of the day, soloing to the finish ahead of the hard-charging duo of Thibaut Pinot and Julian Alaphilippe.

He then went on to produce a head-turning effort in Stage 13’s TT, finishing 3rd only behind Geraint Thomas and Julian Alaphilippe.

On Stage 11, Mike Woods crashed and broke two ribs. He finished the stage and went on to finish the Tour.

Bernal became the first Colombian to win the Tour de France, and the youngest winner since Henri Cornet in 1904.

Bernal’s broken collarbone turned out to be a blessing in disguise, shifting his focus from the Giro d’Italia to the Tour de France.

In his second participation, Bernal took small bits of time out of his rivals throughout the first and second week, most notably in Stage 2’s TTT and Stage 10’s crosswinds.

But after losing over a minute in Stage 12’s ITT to teammate Geraint Thomas, it looked as though Bernal may be put to work in the mountains for the 2018 Tour winner.

But on Stage 18 to Vallorie, Bernal attacked the group of GC favourites and stayed away, taking 32 seconds back and, more importantly, moving in front of teammate Thomas into second overall.

On one of the most memorable days in recent Tour history – a day in which the stage was cancelled, no official stage winner was declared for only the second time in the race’s history, and Thibaut Pinot climbed off his bike in tears – Bernal again rode away from the GC favourites on the major climb of the day, the Col de l’Iseran.

ASO decided that the GC times would be taken at the top of this climb, instead of in the valley below where confused riders were climbing into their team cars, making Bernal the new overall race leader.

Wearing yellow for the first time in his career, Bernal and Team INEOS controlled Stage 20 with ease, and rode into Paris with the team’s 7th yellow jersey in eight Tours.

Comment: Why would you support a cycling team?

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Rob Whittle
1 Aug 2019

We’re not football supporters cheering for the local lads, so why do some cycling fans get so attached to teams?

Cast your mind back to the troubling and turbulent times when the Artists Formerly Known As Sky were cast adrift and in speculation mounted that it may be no more. A tweet popped up on my timeline that stuck with me.

“If Team Sky are leaving pro cycling, I really have no reason to follow the sport.”

It was no great commentator, or even a particularly popular tweet, and has long since faded into the ether of Twitter’s unsearchable mass of tweets of old.

It struck me, though – why support a team more than an actual sport? Surely most, if not all (well, obviously not all) people who follow a sport are a fan of the sport itself.

Cycling, football, snooker, golf fans – we all gravitate towards the TV in the corner of the room showing our sport, whether our chosen team/player is featured or not. Why would someone’s interest live or die on the fortunes of a single team.

The question poked its head again during the Tour, where I saw banners stating support for Movistar or Team Ineos on the roadside. Again, I wondered who these fans were.

The "new" cyclist 

Perhaps it is symptomatic of the kind of supporter who entered the fray following the recent UK boom in cycling, one intent on flying the flag. 

It is not hugely surprising that new fans gravitate towards the most successful teams. I suppose it’s human nature.

It could be that it is just someone who got caught up in the team’s ‘them and us’ mentality, fostered, knowingly or not, by its own hierarchy. Certainly, Team Sky-cum-Ineos have found themselves polarising opinion like no other team in the sport’s recent history.

I have to emphasise that I am not Ineos-bashing here and this could be a comment from a supporter of any team. If it is mere disgust that a favoured team is going the way of many cycling teams before it, it is as clear an example of cutting-your-nose-off-to-spite-your-face as binning the telly just because Game of Thrones has finished is.

The surprise for me in this case is that there is no apparent love for the sport outside this support.

Relax – watch the race

Now, there’s nothing wrong with watching sport in whichever way you want to, but for me, it’s hard to comprehend because it is absolutely at odds with the way I watch cycling.

I love the sport (dodgy historical warts and all) without feeling the need to show any specific support. I have no team affinities. I have riders I like, but I do not have a need for them to win the race.

Because of this, I am free from all the stresses that have blighted my years watching football. I’m a Man United fan so, admittedly, over the past 20 years I’ve had a less stressful time than most. I don’t watch “the beautiful game” so much now – I get annoyed at all the cheating.

Because I don’t have one team, or one rider, I spend my time watching cycling sitting on the fence, free to enjoy the spectacle that unfolds, like a game of chess on wheels, before me.

This might sound dispassionate, but it’s not: I simply, as someone once said, let the road decide, and appreciate the races I watch no less for it. And, even if I start out watching a race with no clear favourite, this doesn’t mean I finish it that way.

Keep Gesink

So what was it our Sky fan was supporting, if not the sport? Was it ‘the home team’? Well, that team is now pretty far removed from the all-British outfit it set out to be. 

Cycling is as global as any other sport and, whatever good intentions the team had at the start, the will to win outstripped the need to act as a national team. Egan Bernal and Iván Sosa aren’t local lads from Leafy Cheshire.

Some teams do manage to keep an identity – FDJ’s roster has, over the years, remained mostly French, and Euskaltel-Euskadi were Basque through and through, and perhaps, in terms of results, it has been to the detriment of both – but it is the nature of pro cycling that teams change.

So much so that it is one sport where a protagonist can change sides simply by staying put.

It is this fluid nature of team ownership that helps keep partisan support at bay. Jumbo-Visma are the latest incarnation of the famous Rabobank squad, but they started out as Kwantum in the late ‘80s. If you want to support them by wearing retro, you could rock the Belkin look, or even Blanco, when the team was sponsorless. 

It’s very hard to nail your colours to the mast when the colours keep changing.

Rider, Nation, Team?

In this dynamic world, most cycling fans do have their favourite riders, over and above favourite teams. Cavendish fans support Cavendish whoever he rides for. Riders like Cancellara or Boonen had a huge following in the Classics as does, more recently, Peter Sagan. Warren Barguil has a fan club – I saw him on Ventoux. “Allez, Warren!”

National identity always comes into the equation. You won’t see a race without a Lion of Flanders or Basque ikurrina popping up somewhere or other.

The Italians and French, the Dutch and the Columbians all give vociferous (and sometimes physical) support to their own riders. I believe Valverde is quite popular in Spain.

In football, support usually starts with the team, and the hero can become the villain the moment the asking price is met. I don’t believe that this is the case in cycling. The French might wail and gnash their teeth if Pinot or Bardet sign for Sky, but they’d still love Pinot and Bardet (although, perhaps, a little less).

That cycling is often described as a team sport for individuals highlights the contradictions within. In following the sport it is not unusual to support the rider but not necessarily the team.

Leadership juggling can polarise this issue – think Hinault/LeMond, Armstrong/Contador, or even, more recently Wiggins/Froome and Quintana/Landa/Valverde. Everyone has a view, and everyone takes a side.

As we know, Team Sky turned into Team Ineos on May 1st as Sir Dave managed to find the UK’s richest man and his petro-chemical millions. On one side of the argument, this saves a major player in the pro cycling world: on the other, it gives the team the chance of an even bigger budget.

Moral questions have already been raised as to how the company makes its money and its effect as an environmental polluter. It has already been used as a stick to beat the team with by fans who seem to conveniently forget that Bahrain Merida is essentially an advert for a country with, at best, questionable human rights issues.

So, what about our Sky fan? I think that they probably came to the sport in the last few years and jumped onto the success of Team Sky. Watching Sky, and now Ineos, win is the be-all and end-all.

If that were gone, for them, there would be nothing. In its own way, it’s not dissimilar to many of Armstrong’s US fans back in the day: happy to watch their man crush the opposition whilst flying the Stars and Stripes, but with no real love for the sport.

It might just be that they don’t understand that cycling teams are generally at the whim of whoever pays for them. They have to change name, kit, bike and, sometimes, country to survive.

Whatever their motivation, they display a pretty shallow appreciation of the sport of pro cycling.

In case you were wondering, the first response to the tweet was perhaps most apt:

“Go and find another sport.”

Colombia: Land of the bicycle

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James Spender
2 Aug 2019

Europe has France, Italy and Belgium, but across the Atlantic is the equally cycling-mad Colombia, home of 2019 Tour winner Egan Bernal

This article was originally published in issue 89 of Cyclist magazine

Words James Spender Photography Mike Massaro

Medellín rises out of the jungle like a comic book city. At its heart are clusters of skyscrapers, yet these slender giants are themselves overlooked by the favelas, whose ramshackle brick-cement houses cling to the upper slopes of the Andes mountains nearly a kilometre higher still.

Medellín’s airport is just 35km away, but even in the late evening the journey down National Route 56 – affectionately known to Colombian cyclists as ‘Las Palmas’ – takes over an hour.

In another place on Earth, Las Palmas would seem tantalising but quite unsuitable for cycling. It’s a 12km climb from the city’s edge to 2,529m, averaging 7% and peaking at 14%, and is heavily used by a slew of HGVs and breakneck motorists snaking up and down its four lanes.

But this is Colombia, where cyclists are uncowed by small matters of traffic and high altitude.

Currently the Palmas Oficial Strava segment has 12,512 names on its leaderboard, and is topped by Team Ineos’s Ivan Sosa in a time of 30min 12sec, with teammate Egan Bernal in second and Rigoberto Uran in 13th.

Barely a non-Colombian name graces the top 100, which says not only that cycling is in the country’s blood, but also that in an age of globalisation and the internet, this news largely hasn’t crossed the border to anywhere else.

None of this is to suggest that Colombia is some kind of secret cycling nation. The WorldTour roster sports many Colombian names, the path to the pro peloton having been beaten by Martín Emilio ‘Cochise’ Rodriguez back in the 1970s and Luis ‘Lucho’ Herrera and Fabio Parra in the 1980s.

But until you come here, it’s impossible to appreciate how deep the cycling obsession runs, and just what forms its bedrock. Which is why we ask our guide Ben Hitchins, who runs PiCO cycle travel, based in Medellín, to show us what makes Colombia’s cycling so rich.

Riders, writers and insects

If there is a historical heart to Colombian cycling it beats on the Avenida Carabobo in Medellín’s rough and ready downtown, El Centro. Here amidst the fruit stands, the tiendas and the trick-turners are two of Colombia’s oldest bike shops: Bicicletas Ramon Hoyos, established 1959, and Colbic Bicicletas, established 1957.

‘My father started the shop and I work here with my brother,’ says Jorge Hoyos, pointing to a series of black and white photographs running up the wall next to the shop till of lithe men in woollen jerseys. ‘Everyone in Colombia knows the name Ramon Hoyos,’ he says matter-of-factly. And that is very probably true.

Outside Colombia, cycling fans might only have noticed Ramon Hoyos Vallejo riding for his national team at the 1956 and 1960 Olympics, but for the compatriot spectator he dominated the country’s premier calendar event, taking top spot at the Vuelta a Colombia five times, including winning 12 of its 18 stages in 1955.

Hoyos is possibly the only cyclist in the world who can claim a Nobel Prize winner wrote his life story: Colombia’s most celebrated author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, penned Hoyos’ biography for the Espectador newspaper in the 1950s. Yet this cyclist might be most famous for something else – the nickname he would get that would go on to describe all Colombian climbers, el escarabajo de la montaña or ‘the beetle of the mountain’.

It’s a somewhat complicated plot, but Hoyos junior explains that his father first competed in the Vuelta a Colombia in 1952 as a 19-year-old, much to the chagrin of more established riders unable to find the financial backing to race.

He crashed on the first stage and missed the time cut, but next day he appeared on the start line and successfully argued his way back into the race, eventually being allowed to set off several minutes late up the notoriously difficult 80km Alto de Letras, which runs from around 450m to nearly 3,700m.

Remarkably, he pedalled back to second place, but poor luck struck again and he crashed.

On another occasion this story may have been lost to history, but when Hoyos finally crossed the stage finish his herculean effort was immortalised by radio commentator José Enrique Buitrago.

Seeing the spindly, battered limbs of the flailing yet defiant rider, Buitargo exclaimed, ‘He is not a human, he is a beetle on a bicycle!’ (Although another layer to this story suggests Buitargo had meant to say ‘he is a grasshopper’, but got his insects mixed up in a fit of emotion.)

In years to come, the beetle label would be a catch-all term for a certain type of climber from Colombia. If you want to see an escarabajo in action just watch Nairo Quintana up a 1-in-10.

So given all this, why was Colombian cycling so hidden from the rest of the world for so long? Especially given that international riders were frequenting its events – that 1952 race, for instance, was won by Frenchman José Beyaert.

‘Simple. When Colombian riders first went to Europe they couldn’t handle it,’ says Hoyos junior. ‘It was too cold, there was snow, the rain, they had to race on the pavé.’

Shaped by the land

It would be four decades on from Hoyos before Colombian cyclists managed to capture the hearts and minds of European fans, and even then its riders initially received nearly as much hostility as they did admiration.

At the 1985 Tour de France, three stage wins, two top 10 GC finishes and a polka dot jersey by Café de Colombia’s Luis Herrera and Fabio Parra were met with French newspaper articles suggesting doping, while Laurent Fignon is alleged by Herrera to have publically referred to Colombian riders as ‘an inferior race’ (Herrera had taken the Alpe d’Huez stage from Fignon in the 1984 Tour and would go on to win the 1987 Vuelta a España, with the Frenchman only third).

At any rate, Colombian riders were getting big results, and Santiago Toro, whom we meet at his business, Scarab Cycles – sitting poised like many a high-end bike shop on a useful road out of the city to the countryside – has a theory as to where Colombia’s cycling obsession derives.

‘The Colombian federation of coffee built the Café de Colombia team in the 1980s, so there was the money to make the team. But if you dig deeper there are stronger links between coffee and Colombian cycling,’ says Toro.

‘Coffee is grown at altitude and the people that farm it, they are tough people. These guys, you see them walking up mountains when they are 12 years old carrying 40kg sacks. Not because they are forced to work, but the family has a little coffee finca and they see their dad working, they want to help him, copy him.

‘Or maybe it is not coffee but another kind of farm, but it’s work like this, at altitude, that shapes our riders. They are not born in labs – they come from their environment.’

Indeed, Luis Herrera was nicknamed el jardinero, ‘the little gardener’, as he farmed flowers, while Nairo Quintana grew up on his parents’ smallholding situated at 3,000m – higher than any French col. Yet that’s not to say all Colombian success stories come from rural backgrounds, nor to infer that such upbringings are always impoverished, says Toro.

‘But there are big social and economical factors. Cycling, I think, comes first because many people, especially in the countryside, are poor, and the bike is a tool for transport. So everyone has a bike here. But that leads to people using them for pleasure, for freedom and sport, not just for transport.

‘When the Vuelta a Colombia came along [in 1951], it became one of the ways people learned more about Colombia – what the landscape is like, what the people are like in different parts of the country – because during the races the radio commentators were describing what they were seeing. I mean, my mum knew about cycling in this way, even my grandmother used to listen all the time to the Vuelta!

‘For all these reasons, cycling is very much in our blood. It was kept like a secret from the rest of the world until the 1980s and 90s, overshadowed by stories of drug trafficking, and people were terrified to visit here. But now they are coming and discovering this marvellous place, and seeing it is cycling paradise.’

The bike shops

Part retailer, part museum, part lifeline

‘People want to get stuff fixed rather than buy new, which is why we carry a lot of old stock. We’ll have that bolt someone needs to fix a brake,’ says Tata Otalvaro, who with her two siblings owns Colbic Bicicletas in the centre of Medellín.

True enough, the stock room of Colbic runs bigger than its shop floor, the two areas separated by display-case counters housing everything from the classic red-blue woven pump adaptors to a hen’s-teeth-rare, new old stock carbon fibre Dura-Ace chainset, priced at the equivalent of £510.

Alongside sits every type of bike you can imagine, from kids’ fat bikes and cheap alloy road bikes to expensive own-brand carbon bikes, and there’s even a row of 1980s-looking fan-resistance exercise bikes.

‘This shop and Ramos Hoyos across the street were the first two bike shops,’ Otalvaro says. ‘My father and my uncle set it up 62 years ago doing small mechanic jobs.

‘It quickly grew into a shop, and this area became like the bike district. We carry so much inventory now that we supply other bike shops and mechanics in small villages. I employ lots of women, because they are faster learners than men and can remember where everything is!

‘December is our busiest time as that is when we get the best weather, so from a very young age my brother, sister and I would work here in the holidays. I think I changed my first inner tube for a customer when I was 12.

‘My father sponsored teams long ago, and my brother used to be a professional. I ride too, three times a week. It is a way of life. For some people it is just for transport, getting out of the traffic of the city.

‘But everyone feels joy riding a bike, and the more you ride the longer you go and the more tired you become and the more joy you have when you get home exhausted. It is addictive, and the terrain here and the geography is perfect for riding.’

The framebuilder

Santiago Toro wants to re-introduce Colombians to the joys of steel

‘I used to be a tennis player but my dad was always saying, “Get a bike.” Then I got injured and as part of my rehab I was using a spinning bike in a gym,’ says Scarab Cycles’ Santiago Toro.

‘I was like, “If this thing is interesting staring in a mirror, what about being outside?” I got a bike and now my tennis racquets hang in the hall.

‘Before long I was riding so much that my dad said, “Let’s start a bike business together.” So five years ago I found Agustin, a traditional framebuilder here, one of the last in Colombia.

He was not aware of the trends going on around him, so we updated his brand and made a commercial push using new materials and technology.

‘Unfortunately we ran into difficulties and went our separate ways. We stayed on here, and I think that makes three custom builders in Colombia: Agustin, Jose Duarte in Bogotá, and Scarab.

‘Colombian riders trust the material, as everyone grows up riding steel bikes. But those bikes are mild steel because historically builders just used whatever they could get their hands on, and that meant the kind of cheap, heavy steel that was used in furniture.

‘Now when a customer comes here and picks up one of our steel frames and feels the weight, they are like, “Wow!”’

The racing

You’re never far from a bike race in Colombia

The Tour of Colombia is held in early spring, while the Vuelta a Colombia takes place each summer, this year in June (the Tour and the Vuelta are separate events, with only the Tour of Colombia recognised as a WorldTour race).

When Cyclist visited the country in February we happened upon the National Track Championships being held on the outdoor Velódromo Martín Emilio Cochise Rodriguez in Medellín. It felt serendipitous, but as Scarab Cycles’ Alejandro Bustamante explains, you’re never far from some form of bike racing in Colombia.

‘There are lots of opportunities to race here, especially for juniors,’ says Bustamante. ‘The towns have cycling schools that compete against each other, or the local mayors put on races. And there are chequeos– literally translated like “checking”.

‘They put the juniors to race for an hour, crit-style. There will be a couple of pros or elites in there setting the rhythm, then the coaches and scouts come down and write down the names of the kids who can hold on.

‘These take place all over the country every weekend. The riders they produce are different depending on region. If you are from Antioquia [where Medellín is located] where they eat a lot of frejoles [beans], you grow up strong; Boyacá [where Nairo Quintana is from], they eat lots of soup and live high, so they are very thin with incredible cardio.

‘In Cali it’s so flat and warm, they make incredible track riders. But wherever you are from, for most Colombians cycling is a rite of passage.’

The ride out

In Colombia, cycling is as much about community as it is about racing

‘Ciclovía started in Bogotá in the 1970s, then spread to other cities in Colombia and is now an event in cities across the world,’ says Ben Hitchins, an English ex-pat who moved to Medellín to start bike travel company PiCO.

‘The local government closes certain streets to cars every Sunday morning and the roads are free to use for runners, cyclists and skaters. Even the mayor comes out running with his bodyguards.

‘The routes are marked by cones and stewards are at every junction, keeping it all safe. There’s also a smaller Ciclovía on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.’

It’s no small undertaking – Medellín is a densely populated city of some 2.5 million people, Bogotá larger still at eight million, yet each Sunday morning and every public holiday, the city closes off 60km of roads running through its heart, including part of the Palmas climb.

‘Ciclovía is great for competitive cyclists, if used sparingly – with so many people on the streets of varying abilities, you can’t just bomb through on your bike. Las Palmas has a lane cordoned off for cyclists.

‘They can’t close it entirely as it’s the main route to the airport, but one lane at least gives you the space and safety to take on this legendary climb.’


Box Hill and Surrey climbs: the best of RideLondon

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Peter Stuart
2 Aug 2019

We ride the best of RideLondon's Surrey climbs, along with some nearby gems the route skips

It was one of the most dramatic moments of the London 2012 Olympic road race.

American Taylor Phinney attacked on Box Hill, bridging to the break up ahead.

Britain’s David Millar held strong at the front of the peloton, resolute that the home nation could still reel in the lead group and set up Mark Cavendish to win the sprint.

Unfortunately Millar was wrong. After eight laps of the punishing climb the British team couldn’t catch the break and, with no one else prepared to help, they watched their gold medal hopes disappear up the road.

It was a bad day for GB but a great day for Box Hill – secured as a cycling icon for the south of England.

Since then, the Alpine-like switchbacks of Box Hill have served as a magnet for cyclists, and every weekend the road is thick with riders, culminating in RideLondon's enormous sportive that takes in the climb.

It’s the second-most popular Strava segment in the UK (beaten only by a stretch of London’s Richmond Park) and has become almost a cliched symbol of the boom in cycling over the past few years.

Certainly, Surrey seems like the last place to find little-known and lesser-trodden roads, but they are out there, and today Cyclist is venturing into the deep of the Surrey Hills and the North Downs ridge in search of historic climbs and quieter local lanes.

On the ridge 

‘Oliver Reed was a regular of the local pubs here,’ says Dave Farmer, owner of Surrey Hills Cycleworks.

‘He was barred from the White Horse Hotel over there,’ Dave continues while pointing to a pub in the distance. ‘Allegedly he started a small fire.’

Dave owns a bike shop in Leatherhead, and he’s promised to show us his favourite route in the area.

He has kindly agreed to drive the car with our photographer, George, while cycling the route will be myself and Josh, a rowing coach who rides several times a week in Surrey. He has a 52-minute 25-mile time-trial to his name on a borrowed bike, and keeping up with him today is sure to put me through some serious hurt.

Dave has presented us a challenging route – 112km with almost 2,000m of climbing. Josh wastes no time asking if we could stretch to a full 100 miles.

To my relief, Dave laughs off the suggestion. ‘See how you feel after Barhatch and Crocknorth,’ he advises.

The route begins down the back of Holmwood Common towards Newdigate. It’s a pretty and strangely quiet road, peppered with stone churches and thatched cottages.

We’re heading for the hilly ridge south of the North Downs and the hotbed of mountain biking and road riding that is Leith Hill.

It can be climbed in eight different ways, but we’ve chosen today’s ascent for scenic treasures more than pure difficulty.

Our approach starts on Broome Hall Road through open farmland, which today exhibits the earthy browns of freshly ploughed fields.

The road here seems as though it was purpose-built for cycling – smooth, narrow and offering a perpetual view.

It even seems to have a custom-built wooden railing at the roadside to lean on when taking pictures or swigging water.

The road flattens out, and up ahead we can see a dark corridor of trees that indicates we’re entering one of Surrey’s iconic overshadowed sunken lanes.

Dave tells us these roads are the result of soft geology. As most of the hills are formed of chalk, the ground itself is malleable and the roads have sunk over the years.

We climb out of the trees and into the open air again to tackle the ascent up Leith Hill.

We stop for a moment at a crossroads beside Christ Church, which has excellent views over the hillside, before carrying on to the summit.

At the top is a small village, just below the tip of the ridge. A footpath leads to the very top, and were we feeling braver and on wider tyres we would give it a try.

Instead, though, we push on for the open and fast descent off the hill.

It’s the first of six hills on today’s ride, and already my legs are feeling the burn. With a little caution I stick persistently to Josh’s wheel as we push the 60kmh mark.

He sits up, staring at his power meter, while I crouch behind my handlebars to hide from the wind. We’ve got 10km of easy and picturesque riding to enjoy before the sharpest climb of the day – Barhatch.

Hatching a plan

Heading down the narrow lane of Cotton Row it strikes me how empty these roads are compared to the congestion 10 miles north of here.

Lower Breache Road, a little further on, feels as though we’ve entered an episode of Midsomer Murders, as a limestone cottage opposite a lily-covered pond seems simply too bucolic to be real.

I’m snapped back to reality when we find ourselves at the foot of the Barhatch climb, with 3km to go before the summit.

It winds away in front of us on a gradually narrowing track before disappearing into another Surrey canopy.

Josh and I begin the first ramp out of the saddle with a strong rhythm, but as the road ahead comes into view both of us elect to sit down and search for the comfort of our largest cassette sprocket.

Hitting 20% on its steepest slope, Barhatch is punishing. Each ramp creates a false crest, only to reveal a steeper ramp above.

Keeping any rhythm takes all the energy I have, and squeezing over the final crest I feel as though my lungs may burst.

Meanwhile, Josh is sticking to his power numbers, seemingly only breathing heavily by choice so as to not make a mockery of my exhaustion.

We turn onto Brook Lane, where a tall tree overhangs the road completely with a passage cut artistically through it, before the road curves below a railway bridge that carries the North Downs Line.

It’s almost like a picture frame capturing the fields and cottages behind it.

We stop for food in the village of Shere. There is no shortage of options, and we eventually decide on a full pub lunch at the Gomshall Mill Inn.

The day isn’t even half done yet and we have 62km and more than a vertical kilometre of climbing ahead of us.

In deepest Surrey

After lunch we set off for Peaslake, through Hurt Wood, along narrow sheltered roads. The climb up Holmbury Hill is a chore with full stomachs, but is a comparative breeze after Barhatch.

Peaslake leads on to Coombe Lane, one of the more forgiving climbs of the day, but still a 1.4km drag at an average of 7%.

Then a short descent leads us all too quickly to another queen climb of the Surrey Hills, Crocknorth Road.

It begins deceptively, with a wooden fence that guides us up a 5% incline, tempting us to get it over with quickly with a blast of energy, but lying in wait are a pair of back-to-back 15% ramps that stab at our legs.

Coming off the ramp at the end of Crocknorth Road, we descend swiftly through Ranmore Common onto the North Downs Way.

On our right is Denbies Wine Estate, one of the largest wine producers in the UK. It boasts a stunning footpath climb through its vineyards and up to Ranmore Common, which isn’t strictly open
to cyclists, but the estate is very welcoming of well-behaved riders and even hosts a hill climb event once a year, with the innovative format of a one-on-one duel to decide the winner.

We won’t be tackling it today, but instead head down Ranmore Common Road, a technical descent including a steep hairpin that emerges suddenly from the hedgerows.

With 85km done, our arrival at Westhumble tells us that we have only one significant climb left on the itinerary.

Boxing day

Box Hill’s main access road is the Zig Zag road, which is Surrey’s answer to an Alpine climb. Its smooth tarmac, winding switchbacks and open hilly views feel altogether un-British, but this is a site of considerable history.

The twisting road that leads to Box Hill’s summit was constructed with the early intention of serving a grand housing estate that the one-time owner, Thomas Hope, had intended to build.

In the early 20th century, though, the land was bought by Leopold Salomons and given to the public in 1914.

This road, then, serves no other purpose than to allow access to the hilltop, and the Salomons memorial at the central viewpoint of the hill pays tribute to that gift.

For cyclists, Box Hill is perfect for threshhold training. At a gradient of around 5% all the way, it’s shallow enough to keep a consistent cadence but hard enough to provide a challenge for anyone looking to get up it quickly.

I rode my fastest time on it four years ago, in around 5mins 40secs – a speed that at the time was good enough to put me on Strava’s first page of finishers.

These days I’m more than a minute and several hundred places off the fastest time.

After a little discussion, Josh and I decide to give it an all-out blast as it’s a warm day and the wind direction is in our favour.

So with heads down we head off at full intensity around the three major corners that played host to London’s historic Olympic race, crouching low on the shallow gradient of the longest straight along

the ridge. We reach the top only to realise that we didn’t even break six minutes, leaving our legs – and our spirits – feeling shredded.

It’s late now, and the sun is casting shadows over the hillside. It’s also fairly deserted. Most cyclists who ride in this area will have ticked off Box Hill by midday, queued for coffee and then slinked off home.

We have one of Britain’s most popular cycling roads to ourselves, and it really is stunning in the low evening light.

‘That’s the Box Hill Fort down there,’ Dave tells us as we regroup at the top.

He’s pointing at a path a few metres from the Box Hill Cafe that I’ve never thought to go down, even though I’ve visited this climb numerous times.

‘A famous military major from the 18th century called Peter Labilliere was buried upside down right over there,’ he adds.

‘He said the whole world seemed topsy-turvy so he wanted to be buried that way.’

The Box Hill Cafe is usually heaving with cyclists, and at its busiest times you might wait 20 minutes for a coffee.

That’s not an issue for us today, mainly because the cafe has been closed for the past three hours.

From here, we round the corner to take in the views over the Surrey Hills and the North Downs from the Salomons memorial that Box Hill is famed for.

The vista to the south stretches seemingly forever into the distance, over green fields and thick patches of woodland, and again it seems impossible that we are only a few kilometres from the M25 motorway that circles the capital.

With the light fading, we drop off the back of Box Hill and start the final leg of our route, meandering via minor roads through the Surrey countryside, back to our start point in Dorking.

‘It’s a real shame we couldn’t fit in Whitedown,’ Dave tells us regretfully. ‘We missed Critten Lane too, and you didn’t get to climb up Radnor Road.

‘Then there’s the whole other side of Leith Hill, and as you get further south it gets really interesting.’

I have a feeling Dave could go on for some time. It reminds me that Surrey isn’t just a cycling hotspot because it’s close to London – you could ride these roads for years and
there would still be plenty to be discovered.

Escape from the Big Smoke

Follow Cyclist's route around the Surrey Hills outside London


To download this route go to cyclist.co.uk/62surrey. Following the GPX file is the best bet, as it is too long-winded to describe the full route here, thanks to its many tiny side roads and subtle turnings.

In brief, from Dorking, ride down through Newdigate to Leith Hill, tracking back toward Ewhurst.

From there climb Barhatch and then loop back through Holmbury Hill Road to Peaslake and up onto Ranmore via Coombe Lane and Crocknorth.

From Ranmore continue to Box Hill via the Zig Zag road, then head towards Headley and return to Dorking via Walton On The Hill and Strood Green.

 

The rider's ride

Ritte Ace, £2,199 frameset only, silverfish.com

Ritte is a brand that won’t try to bamboozle you with technical language and outrageous performance claims.

Instead it aims to make its mark by looking good – and its stunning paint schemes are evidence of that. That they ride well is an excellent bonus.

I rode the Ace for a few months and there’s no doubt it won the battle of aesthetics – consistently drawing a crowd at any given coffee stop.

In terms of ride quality, the Ace sits at the more aggressive end of the spectrum. It responds admirably to power inputs but can feel quite jarring when it hits holes in the road.

I was very happy to be rolling on Easton’s wide-rimmed tubeless-ready EC90 wheels. They felt fast yet comfortable with 25mm tyres, and I’m sure they’d have made a step up in both comfort and speed with tubeless tyres.

Perhaps the crowning piece of the build, though, was the custom-painted Easton carbon EC90 stem. It boasts ample stiffness, but more importantly it’s the perfect match for the Ace’s chunky streamlined tubes.

 

How we got there

Travel

The best starting point for this ride is Dorking town centre, which is well serviced by rail connections from London and the South East.

We travelled from London Waterloo with South West trains, which took 50 minutes and costs £12.

Thanks

Many thanks to Dave Farmer of Surrey Hills CycleWorks for organising our route and driving our photographer over the course of the day.

Surrey Hills CycleWorks is an independent bike shop in Dorking offering all manner of mountain and road bike kit as well as high-level bike fit services.

Dave also organises group rides out of the shop and welcomes riders for a coffee break when riding in Surrey.

Visit surreyhillscycleworks.co.uk for details.

Race across Europe: Riding the Transcontinental

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Josh Cunningham
6 Aug 2019

After 10 countries. 3,000km and just a few hours' sleep, Cyclist finally understands the joys and pain of The Transcontinental Race

In the early hours of Tuesday 6th August, German cancer researcher Fiona Kolbinger became the first woman to win the Transcontinental Road Race.

She became the first female to do so. It was also her first every ultra-endurance race, further underlying the extent of her achievements.

Two years ago, former Cyclist staffer and good friend Joshua Cunningham attempted the Transcon. Here is his story...

WordsJoshua CunninghamPhotography James Robertson

The path ahead of me is lit solely by the beam from my headtorch. I try to thread my front wheel through the maze of rocks and logs that litter the farm track, but I struggle to stay upright.

It’s almost midnight and I’m somewhere between the Slovak border and the city of Miskolc in northern Hungary in the closing stages of an 18-hour stint in the saddle.

I had to abandon my planned route after spotting a ‘No Cycling’ sign, and now I’m navigating through 20km of wilderness to get back on track without a time penalty while trying to rid myself of the frustration caused by a double puncture suffered a few minutes ago.

Eventually I rejoin the road network and continue on for a few kilometres to the outskirts of Miskolc. Exhausted, I drag my bike off the road at a secluded spot between a railway line and an industrial estate, take off my cap (number 98) and gulp down a couple of crumpled sandwiches.

A quick check of the race’s GPS tracking hub shows me to be one of few riders still active, and I climb satisfied into my bivi bag before lying down in the waste-strewn scrubland.

After four hours of disturbed sleep I get going again, and soon come across another ‘No Cycling’ road sign. Through the darkness I spot a bike leant up against a small wooden bus stop at the side of the road.

It’s sporting the telltale accoutrements of tri bars and bikepacking luggage, and extending out of the tiny shelter are two feet attached to lycra-clad legs, splayed apart on the floor.

‘Finally we meet, rider 84,’ I think to myself, and feel satisfied about having caught up with the competitor I’d been jockeying for position with the previous day.

It’s now a little past 4am, and I ride on through the low-lying mist and deserted villages of rural Hungary, the light of a full moon painting the landscape deep shades of blue and grey.

The still of the night is broken only by the rhythmic clicking of my chain. Ahead I can just make out the first light of morning as it emerges on the eastern horizon, and so another day on The Transcontinental begins. 

Far-reaching idea

The Transcontinental, for those not familiar with it, is an unsupported bike race across Europe. The route changes every year, and 2017’s edition is from Belgium to Greece, with checkpoints in Germany, Italy, Slovakia and Romania.

There are few rules: you must pass through each checkpoint but otherwise the route is up to you, and you must ride it unsupported. Rule 10 sums it up pretty well: ‘Ride in the spirit of self-reliance and equal opportunity.’

As race founder Mike Hall once said, it’s an event ‘where a rider can simply pick up a bike, shake hands at the start line and race thousands of miles for the pure satisfaction of sport.’

Unsupported ultra-racing really began to command interest after the inaugural Transcontinental Race was held in 2013.

For years there had been the Tour Divide, an off-road, semi-official race tracing the 4,400km Rocky Mountain Divide route, and the Race Across America, a heavily commercialised event contested by riders with vast support crews.

Then in 2012 came the World Cycle Race, which was an unsupported bike race around the world won by Mike Hall.

But it wasn’t until the following year, when Hall organised and launched the first Transcontinental that the discipline gained real traction.

One of the riders in that inaugural edition was Juliana Buhring, who in the same year that Hall won the World Cycle Race had set the record for the fastest female circumnavigation.

‘After I got back from cycling the world I met up with Mike,’ she says. ‘We became friends and when he decided to start the TCR [Transcontinental], he invited me to participate. I’d never raced before but he said, “You’ve been around the world; how hard can it be?”

‘I was the only woman in the race, made it to the finish in 12 days, and became well and truly hooked on bikepacking ultra-races.’

Buhring wasn’t alone. Over the next four years the niche sport of unsupported, ultra-distance bike racing grew exponentially, turning into a movement that Hall’s race – and he himself – became the pre-eminent leader of.

This new style of racing was real, unpredictable, honest, tough, and best of all it was open to anybody who fancied a go at it.  

‘It’s now exploding everywhere,’ says Buhring, and with new races popping up around the world, from the Trans Atlantic Way in Ireland, to the Indian Pacific Wheel Race in Australia and Trans Am in the USA, that description is hard to fault.

‘Humans thrive on a challenge, which these races offer in spades, and the format is accessible and affordable in a way that makes them open to anyone who wants to try, not just people with big backing and sponsorship,’ she adds.

In a tragic twist of fate, at the inaugural Indian Pacific Wheel Race in March 2017 Mike Hall, in action at the event and battling for the win alongside three-time Transcontinental Race winner Kristof Allegaert, was involved in a fatal road collision.

The cycling world reeled, and in the wake of Hall’s death the future of the Transcontinental was understandably thrown into doubt, but an organising committee was set up to ensure it went ahead.

‘Many saw this year’s edition as a tribute to the man who had inspired all of us to ride our bikes and go on adventures,’ says Buhring, who is now race director.

‘His death brought home the risk of riding, but also the reasons why we ride. This was the spirit that Mike had given to the TCR: stepping away from our day-to-day lives, doing something extraordinary, having an adventure and pushing ourselves further than we normally would to discover more about our fears, strengths and weaknesses and grow as individuals.’

Grand depart

It’s 28th July 2017, and I’m one of 300 riders who set off into the night from the Muur Van Geraardsbergen in Belgium, cheered on by hundreds of torch-bearing, flag-waving locals.

Heart pumping, legs turning, mind racing, at first I find it hard to resist chasing the wheels of those pushing the pace on the Muur. Within minutes of cresting the climb, riders begin to turn off, following the routes they have spent the past year agonising over.

After the initial excitement, I eventually settle into a rhythm, always in sight of the rear light of a rider in front. It isn’t until the small hours of the morning, around 2am, in the heart of the Ardennes, that I eventually find myself alone.

It’s a feeling I’ll come to know well.

Over the next 20 hours I barely get off my bike. I navigate through Belgium, in and out of Luxembourg, across a bit of France and into the Black Forest of Germany.

In the first day alone I cover 500km, almost doubling my previous longest-ever ride.

According to my GPS tracker I’m in the top 20 riders and I’m tempted to push on, but I force myself to stop and rest.

‘Don’t go out all guns blazing,’ I’d been told by George Marshall, a Cyclist photographer and previous finisher of the race. His words come back to me now and I give myself a full six hours of recuperation before setting off again.

I’m excited, energised and ready for whatever the rest of Europe has in store, such that by the time I get my brevet card stamped at the second checkpoint control at the foot of Monte Grappa in northern Italy I’m up to 12th place.

After spending four hours sleeping at the control point I ascend the Grappa in pre-dawn twilight, arriving at the summit at the exact moment the sun’s lower edge breaks free of the horizon.

It’s a magical sight, but one that I can’t allow to interfere with the merciless schedule, so I quickly make my way down to the flat expanses of northern Italy and the burning 40°C plains of Eastern Europe beyond it.

Only later will I learn that several people dropped out of the race after attempting the Monte Grappa in the full heat of the day. My pre-dawn ascent was a smart move.

Indeed, my occasional glances at social media feeds and tracking data suggest that many riders are starting to suffer.

As I climb back over the Alps into Austria, the skin starts to come away from my undercarriage, soon necessitating the use of sanitary towels in my chamois.

Eastern Europe is in the grip of a heatwave, making every pedal stroke harder, and now I’m beginning to worry about my chosen route.

The third checkpoint lies 1,000km away in the High Tatras mountains bordering Slovakia and Poland, and when I look at the GPS tracking map that displays everyone’s locations, I’m the only ‘dot’ for miles around.

Convinced I’ve gone wrong, I ride harder so as not to lose time. I’m breaking my own rules for how to tackle the ride, going too fast, not resting enough and definitly not drinking enough to account for the 40°C heat on the Great Hungarian Plain. It soon catches up with me.

For the first time in the race I feel unwell, and take an unscheduled stop for a few hours under a tree. The rest is welcome but the damage is done.

As I continue onwards for the next few days across Hungary and Slovakia my physical and mental states decline at an equal rate. By the time I reach Romania, I’ve cracked. 

The descent

‘It was interesting to observe how each rider dealt with the difficulties,’ Buhring will tell me later on. ‘Those who were in it for the wrong reasons, who brought their egos along or came with unrealistic expectations of themselves and the race, suffered most when the going got rough.’

I don’t know how much everyone else is suffering, but over the next few days I will visit some pretty dark places mentally.

Have I overestimated myself? Have I brought my ego along? I’ve certainly discovered that the race is harder than I ever imagined it would be.

My enthusiasm has gone. Now I can’t stand the solitude of my own thoughts. The scenery means nothing to me.

I don’t want to race, I don’t care about rider 50 up ahead, or rider 203 coming up fast behind. I can’t remember why on Earth I wanted to come here in the first place. But I keep riding.

At 6pm I’ve had enough, so I stop and check in to a hotel. I have a big feed, a beer and sleep in a proper bed. At 2am I wake up and everything has changed. I realise that the emotional pit I’ve been in for the past 48 hours is exactly what I came for. This is the mental and physical test I signed up to take.

All of a sudden my weight is lifted, I collect my bike and pedal off into the darkness of a Romanian night.

The route is muddy and potholed, dogs snap at my ankles and my whole body aches from the hours in the saddle, but my motivation has returned. And remarkably I have somehow kept a hold of my top-20 position. I smile. The race is very much on. 

End of the line

In the end, I don’t make it to the finish in Meteora. My positivity may have resurfaced, but sadly 350km later so does an old knee injury.

I nurse it for two days to the final checkpoint, but to no avail. I can’t continue, and eventually I have to come to terms with that truth and pull out of the race.

At the time I’m crushed, but in retrospect I have come to realise that I got out of the Transcontinental what I hoped and knew it would offer.

I’ve pushed myself to my limit, and now have a good idea of how that limit can be raised.

That alone is an experience worth fighting for.


Josh's route across Europe

 

Preparing for an ultra race

WordsJoshua CunninghamPhotography James Robertson

Bike fit

One of the most important factors in preparing for a 4,000km bike race is your position on the bike.

When you’re spending 15 hours-plus in the saddle every day, and running your body into a state of huge fatigue, the toll from a poor position could prove pivotal.

From injuries that are the result of undue stresses, to saddle sores, and everything in between, there is a lot that can be done to minimise the chance of a bad position ruining your ride. 

I was set up at Cyclefit, which has two studio facilities – in London and Manchester.

Founders Phil and Julian are well known as pioneers in the bike fitting field, and their expertise was entirely necessary to fit me, and my iffy knee, with my bike.

Employing a philosophy of ‘bring the bike to the body; not the body to the bike’, and the motion technology available in their studio, Phil corrected my somewhat slanted position with just a few tweaks (the pressure map fitted to my saddle told us so).

After having endured months of pain and weakness in my knee, I was soon back on the bike and ready to start training for the race itself. 

Strength conditioning

In many ways, having strong legs is a given if you’re riding your bike lots and training for a 4,000km bike race, and its for this reason that you should consider paying as much – if not more – attention to other areas too.

Your legs might well be able to ride 300km-plus every day, but if your body isn’t trained as well, then it could be well be the thing to fail.

Core exercises, dynamic strength exercises, and a good stretching routine can all be used ensure your body maintains its form in a state of fatigue, and stop the chance of overuse injuries flaring up.

I was under the watchful eye of Six Physio to correct previous injuries, and prepare my body for the TCR. 

Bike and kit

Throughout my preparation, and for the race itself, I rode a Genesis Datum 30.

It’s the raciest offering in the brand’s ever-increasing stable of adventure-themed bikes, with just the right balance between speed and comfort.

I used it for everything from chain gang rides and intervals, to bikepacking trips around Morocco in the preceding months.

Spending time on the bike and getting used to your position on it is essential when preparing for an ultra race, making this ‘do-it-all’ a perfect choice. 

For luggage, I used Apidura’s Expedition bikepacking range, and opted for a Saddle Pack 14L – where I kept my sleeping gear and down jacket.

I used a Frame Pack 4.5L, to store tools, spares and hygiene stuff. Then, in a Top Tube Pack Extended, I kept my phone and lip balm, while a Food Pouch was used to store bars for snacks.

Working out what to pack, and where to pack it, is a process that can only be achieved with experience, trial and error, so be sure to test your setup thoroughly.

Having well-ordered luggage is key to efficiency – and therefore speed. 

Josh's transcontinental kit:

Bike 
• Genesis Datum 30
• Continental GP4000S II 25mm tyres
• Profile Design T3 Plus tri bars
• SP Dynamo Hub
• Exposure Revo Dynamo front light
• Busch & Müller current converter

Cockpit 
• Garmin eTrex 30
• Basic Cateye speedo
• Apidura Food Pouch (between tri bars)

Apidura Top Tube Pack 
• Phone
• iPod & headphones
• Camera
• Helmet-mounted light when not in use
• Swiss Army Knife

Apidura Frame Pack Dry 
• Brevet card
• Legwarmers
• Armwarmers
• Electrolyte tablets
• Emergency gels x2
• Battery pack
• iPhone cable
• Micro USB cable for charging lights
• Small roll of duct tape
• Zip ties
• Inner tubes
• Spare cleat
• Chain lube
• Sun cream
• Dry bag with cash
• Bank cards x2
• Passport
• Spare gear cable
• Toothbrush head (with a sawn-off handle)
• Toothpaste

Tool keg 
• Inner tube
• Multitool with chain breaker
• Puncture repair patches
• Spare brake pads

Apidura Saddle Pack Dry 
• Down jacket
• Sleeping bag
• Bivi bag
• Lightweight inflatable mattress
• Buff
• Gilet
• Hi-vis rain cape

For Apidura bags see apidura.com

Classic jerseys: No.14 Panasonic

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Giles Belbin
6 Aug 2019

Managed by Dutch legend Peter Post, the Panasonic team electrified the peloton during the 1980s

This article was originally published in issue 87 of Cyclist magazine

Words Giles Belbin Photography Danny Bird

The 1985 Tour of Flanders would live long in the memory of the 173 riders that rolled out from Sint-Niklaas that Sunday morning in early April.

Bound for Meerbeke, 271km away, it was to be a cruel day – one that started with icy winds blasting the peloton and ended with heavy rain, flooded roads and rivers of mud rendering the famous cobbled climbs all but impassable on a bicycle.

Riders were forced to shoulder their bikes and some even took off their shoes to better run up the hills.

‘A Flemish hell of slippery cobbles, vicious hills and muddied roads,’ was how the Dutch newspaper Leidsch Dagblad described the race, while journalist and author Rik Vanwalleghem said, ‘It was a legendary Ronde, one which wrote Sport with a capital S.’

Only 24 riders made it to the finish, five of them from the Panasonic squad. And if boasting one fifth of all the finishers wasn’t impressive enough, the Dutch team had other reasons to celebrate.

Eric Vanderaerden and Phil Anderson, teammates since Panasonic’s inception the previous year, dominated the latter stages of the race, crossing the line first and second respectively after having caught tiring Dutch rider Hennie Kuiper just before the murderously steep Muur de Geraardsbergen, 20km from the finish.

It was on the Muur that Vanderaerden made his attacking move. With Panasonic emblazoned across the front and back of his Belgian national champion’s jersey, he left Anderson and Kuiper behind, much to the delight of the cheering fans that crowded the famous climb with the chapel at its summit.

The 23-year-old held on in the rain to record a 41-second win over Anderson.

‘I became Belgian champion in a bunch sprint and then it was said that I had benefited from the work of my teammates,’ said Vanderaerden. ‘Now I have shown that it can be done differently.’

While the win was not without some controversy – Anderson felt he was the stronger rider and in 2015 said that he had been leading up the Muur when Vanderaerden had shouted at him to ease up in the moments before launching his attack – it was the perfect demonstration of Panasonic’s strength with authoritative Dutchman Peter Post at the helm.

‘Post is a guarantee for solid craftsmanship in a peloton full of teams who have thrown discipline overboard as if it is surplus ballast from a food bag in the run-up to a finale,’ was the verdict of Leidsch Dagblad.

Three days later Vanderaerden underlined Panasonic’s one-day superiority by winning Gent-Wevelgem, with Anderson again second.

From the ashes of Raleigh

The Panasonic team made its debut in 1984. A decade earlier Post, a Paris-Roubaix winner and one of the most successful six-day riders in history, had started his management career with Raleigh.

There he had introduced the concept of ‘total cycling’, giving his riders defined roles and objectives and nominating protected riders on a race-by-race basis rather than relying on one leader for results. Under his guidance Raleigh were hugely successful, winning many important one-day races and claiming the 1980 Tour de France.

By 1983 Raleigh had decided to end its title sponsorship, forcing Post to look elsewhere (Raleigh would remain as a co-sponsor until the end of 1985).

He agreed a deal with Panasonic but trouble in the camp meant the new set-up would endure a rocky introduction.

Firstly Jan Raas, a key rider for Post at Raleigh who had won two editions of the Tour of Flanders (1979 and 1983) as well as Paris-Roubaix (1982) and a host of other victories, announced that he was forming a rival Dutch team.

The two men had fallen out over the 1982/83 six-day season when Post, in his capacity as organiser of the Rotterdam Six-Day, had paired Patrick Sercu with Raas’s main rival, René Pijnen, after both Sercu’s and Pijnen’s partners had crashed out on the final day.

Raas and his partner Gert Frank had been leading well but ultimately lost to Sercu and Pijnen.

Raas felt betrayed by his road team boss, while Post said he was just following event rules.

So in May 1983 Raas confirmed he would not be joining Post for 1984, a situation that came to a head later that year when the Dutch rider attended the launch of his new Kwantum team instead of riding a kermesse for Raleigh.

Then Post’s attempts to sign former World Champion and Raleigh rider Gerrie Knetemann faltered over ancillary income rights, which led to an embarrassing U-turn as Knetemann had already been announced as a Panasonic rider. In the end Raas took six Raleigh teammates with him to Kwantum, including key men such as Cees Priem and Ludo Peeters, while Post retained the services of seven.

While the Raas fallout meant Panasonic’s first few months were controversial, normal service resumed once the racing started. Post had in fact recruited well – a mix of Belgian and Dutch (with one Australian in Anderson) – and had a strong combination of experience and youth.

The team wasted little time, with Eddy Planckaert claiming four stages and overall victory at February’s Etoile de Besseges. Wins at Het Volk, Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne and Harelbeke quickly followed before Johan Lammerts soloed to the finish at the Tour of Flanders to bring the team its first major victory.

Panasonic remained title sponsors until 1992. As well as stage wins at all three Grand Tours, a Tour de France green jersey and Vanderaerden’s Flanders win in 1985, Panasonic riders secured three Paris-Roubaix victories (1987, 1989 and 1990) and Liège-Bastogne-Liège (1990).

Yet following the bitter feuds that blighted the first months of his team, it has been suggested that Post was sometimes thought to be happiest not when his Panasonic team won, but when Raas’s team lost.

This jersey is part of a collection on display at the Bike Experience Centre in Boom, Belgium. Visit deschorre.be/develodroom.html

Wizards of Aus: Inside custom bike builder Bastion

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Peter Stuart
7 Aug 2019

Titanium 3D printing, filament-wound carbon, computer-modelled ride quality… Bastion is taking bespoke building into the next century

This article was originally published in Issue 87 of Cyclist Magazine

Words Peter Stuart Photography Matt Ben Stone

A laser fires and a blinding light begins to radiate over a pile of titanium dust. White-hot metal particles streak off the build plate like tiny fireworks.

The dusty pile seems to be growing as the laser moves very slowly back and forth over the powder.

Beneath that powder – almost magically – a titanium lug has grown from the base of the machine. It feels like some sci-fi vision of what the future of bicycle manufacturing might look like.

In reality, it’s how Bastion builds parts for its frames today.

Every element of the production process takes place at Bastion’s facility in Fairfield, in the green suburbs of Melbourne, Australia. The showpiece is the 3D titanium printer, but it’s not the only technical marvel on display.

‘We’re engineers and we like to use technology,’ says Ben Schultz, Bastion’s founder and CEO, with a laugh as he shows us around the facility.

In one room sits a filament winder, which weaves ribbons of carbon fibre into tubes, all controlled by computers and robots. There’s an alloy CNC machine, a paint shop and a large heat-treatment furnace, as well as various ovens, industrial fridges and a blasting cabinet. It’s a bike geek’s paradise.

Bastion’s core staff all come from an automotive background, straight from Toyota’s R&D department. Their vision was to rethink bike design with far more control over customisation.

That meant considering not only the size and shape of the rider, but the ride quality and performance of the bike too.

Building by numbers

‘Technologically, our bikes are the most advanced out there,’ says engineering director James Woolcock. ‘Are they the most advanced in every aspect?

‘Well, no, because they don’t have any aerodynamic development.’

At Bastion, the focus is optimising ride quality through the manipulation of materials.

Back in the room where the carbon tubes are made, a strip of carbon fibre rolls slowly off a spool and is fed through a resin bath and wound over a mandrel to form a carbon chainstay, which will be attached to Bastion’s titanium bottom bracket.

The stunning chevron-weave pattern of the tubes is an unintended consequence of the production process, but has become an aesthetic signature for the frames. By creating its own carbon tubes in this way, Bastion can tune in any amount of stiffness it chooses.

To keep things simple for clients, the brand sticks to three options of torsional rigidity – regular, stiff or extra-stiff – but that’s just one aspect of the build that is customisable. The client can also decide how they want the bike to ride.

Once the customer has had a bike fit (done either in Fairfield or through a network of bike-fit partners around the world), Bastion can tweak a bike’s geometry to find a sweet spot of handling and performance that mimics other popular bikes.

In practice, that means a customer could ask for a sprinkling of Trek Madone mixed with a bit of Cannondale Synapse if they so desire.

‘Dean McGeary, our technical director, built our own simulation tool, mapping how certain material and geometry parameters influence the ride, based on parameters from other frames from other brands too,’ says Schultz.

‘Then we tested the first 30 to 40 bikes to see if they matched that simulation, and they did.’

These lugs are hysteretical

The custom-tuned carbon tubes are enough on their own to make Bastion stand out from the crowd, but there’s no doubt the real magic of Bastion’s frames is in the titanium lugs.

They are certainly stunning to look at, however the brand didn’t opt for them out of aesthetics.

‘Coming from a car background, we’ve done lots of work with suspension design,’ says Schultz. ‘Carbon fibre has what’s called hysteretic damping, or hysteresis.

‘What you normally have in a car is a fluid-based suspension system that will both spring back on large impacts and dampen smaller turbulence.’ Bikes made purely of carbon fibre don’t offer the same type of suspension because of their innate hysteresis.

‘The problem with carbon is when you vibrate it at 50-100 hertz it tends to lock out and doesn’t provide the same level of smoothness you get from a titanium or steel bike.

‘We found that by using just titanium at the joints you get the same effect on the ride quality as using a full titanium frame, so we still get that smooth ride but with the low weight, stiffness and vertical flex that carbon offers.’

Schultz adds, ‘Carbon lets you control the stiffness of the bike by controlling the layup of the fibre, so it’s the best material to use for the tubes. For the joints, though, we strongly believe titanium is the better option.

‘Aside from the hysteresis, carbon fibre has lots of quality issues in the joint areas. You have to use large amounts of it in lots of different directions to handle the loads.’

Bastion isn’t the only brand blending carbon tubes with titanium lugs, but it claims its process is unique.

‘Other custom builders make the titanium joints by welding tubes together,’ Schultz says. ‘That gives you the ride quality, but because it’s welded it lacks that torsional stiffness we get.’

Testy titanium

Bastion’s expertise in 3D titanium printing has provided it with a useful sideline in providing consulting services for other industries – ‘That’s growing quicker than the bike sales, to be honest,’ says Schultz – but while you may think the knowledge of 3D titanium printing came before bike design, it was actually the other way round.

‘We had zero experience of printing in titanium before Bastion, but we did have experience of additive manufacturing,’ says Woolcock.

‘We’d been using plastic printing for prototyping – just fitment trials and things like that. Then we heard about metal 3D printing. We thought the benefit would be that there is no real tooling [of moulds] so there’s no real cost.

‘Of course now we realise there are significant costs in time, with every bike being remade on the computer and pre-processed for printing, and there is a fair bit of labour in setting it up differently every time.

‘But there’s no tooling. We aren’t spending £20,000 tooling for each bike we make.’

The technology has its drawbacks compared to non-printed titanium, though.

Titanium has an underlying crystal structure, often called a grain, just like steel does. When you stretch, squeeze or crack those crystals it sacrifices the strength of the metal, and printing it from powder can interrupt that crystal structure.

However, the printers have come on significantly since their first inception. Where older machines sintered balls of metal together in a way that didn’t offer a huge amount of structural strength, the newest technology is very different.

‘The new machines now are melting or fusing the metal together,’ says Schultz. ‘The term “selective laser melting” is more accurate for our machine – really, it’s like a micro-welding process.

‘It starts on a plate of titanium and it welds the shape onto it and then it drops it by a tiny amount – 30 microns, less than a human hair.

‘The powder delivery system wipes a very thin layer of powder over the top of that and then the powder melts into the layer below it. It just keeps working its way up.’

The lugs also go through a heat-treatment furnace, to help create the grain structure that may have been fragmented by the printing process.

The result is titanium that isn’t as strong as machined billet titanium, but is much thinner and able to be controlled in more precise ways.

A close look at the finished lugs reveals the tiniest sculpted edges and even the thinnest-walled parts are effectively hollow, the insides made of an intricate latticework.

Straight off the printer, the lugs look like some kind of sci-fi set design, with thin towers of titanium propping up each part of the lug.

‘Those are supports,’ Woolcock explains. ‘The reason for those is if you’re building an overhanging shape and you’re melting each 30-micron layer it will eventually begin to sag under its own weight.

‘We design them [the supports] to snap in a structural way that doesn’t damage any part of the lug afterwards.’

With the supports snapped off, and heat treatment done, the lugs then travel to the blasting cabinet for finishing, and finally the titanium lugs and filament wound carbon are bonded together using aerospace adhesives to complete the frame.

From there it’s off to be painted in the paint shop, and then onwards to the customer.

Small is beautiful

The intricacy and customisation of the whole process means it is hard to envision Bastion scaling up its production. So is Schultz worried about a factory in the Far East picking up Bastion’s methods and doing it faster, bigger and cheaper?

‘The good thing is that the majority of the cost is actually the machine itself. Whether you get that in China or you buy that in Australia, the machine costs what the machine costs. It’s also still quite slow.

‘It’s well suited to a company building less than 200 bikes per year, but any more than that and it just doesn’t stack up. Those guys want the economies of scale where if you build 20,000 bikes, each one is a fraction of the cost compared to if you build 200.

‘So it’s not an attractive technology to the bigger manufacturers.’

With the patience and cost required for a build, it seems as though Bastion bikes will always target the niche, luxury side of cycling: ‘Whether it’s a Swiss watch or a supercar, I really believe that people yearn for something personalised and something unique,’ Schultz says.

‘Whatever the future holds for cycling, I really hope that there will always be a place for that in the bike market.’

Finished product

The Bastion Road can be built however you want it

With lugs printed in 6-4 grade titanium to any angles and dimensions, the Bastion Road can be adapted to any spec, physiological requirements and tyre clearance, opening a wide spectrum of possible ride qualities. What’s more, the lugs can be etched with any pattern or name.

‘People very regularly request their names to be etched on the bike, or their children’s names,’ says Ben Schultz, Bastion’s founder and CEO.

In terms of ride quality, the engineering team at Bastion tunes the geometry and stiffness to a specific ride criteria – or to match whichever type of bike you may be used to – and presents it in a ‘Custom Engineering Report’.

Back in issue 59 of Cyclist, we reviewed our own custom-made Bastion Road Disc (which has sadly long since been returned) and requested it to ride somewhere between a Cervélo R5 and Parlee Z-Zero.

The result, from our point of view, was impressively precise, with an engaging mixture of titanium smoothness and carbon rigidity.

The Brompton World Championships: Racing with style

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Joe Robinson
7 Aug 2019

An event as unique as the bike it's raced on. Cyclist knotted its tie and headed along to see the action

Words: Joe Robinson

For the thousands of tourists who made the pilgrimage down London's flag-lined streets of The Mall to the Queen’s city residence of Buckingham Palace, Saturday 3rd August may have left them a little confused.

Not because the roads had been shut down for a weekend of cycling festivities that centred around Britain’s most famous boulevard but more so by the 600 men and women sporting a mixture of suit jackets and cycling shoes, lugging their folded Brompton bikes down The Mall’s leafy pavements to a race start line.

Once the day’s main course, the RideLondon Classique women’s pro race had packed up and left, out came the quirky, fun and unpredictable dessert of the 12th Brompton World Championships.

A celebration not only of the popular commuter bike but active travel and cycling in general.

Simple in concept, exciting in practice

Brompton racing is as unique as the bike itself. It would be easy to let 600 hitters from around the world take to the line clad in clinging skinsuits with bikes made to look like Frankenstein's monster just to save a watt or two. But that’s against the brand's British Pimms-drinking, strawberries and cream spirit.

So, instead, since the first event back in 2008, there have been a few simple rules in place.

Number one is the attire. All entrants have to wear a suit jacket, collared shirt and tie. Shorts, skirts and three-quarter length trousers can be worn but matching suit trousers are always recommended.

In fact, the only cycling-specific clothing you can opt for is the mandatory helmet and some cleated cycling shoes.

Number two is how the race starts. In order to balance the playing field between pure athletes and Brompton fanatics, the race is started Le Mans style.

That means every bike is folded with all competitors forced into efficiently unfolding and assembling their machines before being able to go anywhere.

This combination doesn't quite deter the serious from entering but certainly encourages a whole host of riders of all abilities to take to the start line.

For the love of the bike

At the front of the grid of 600, a competitive 50 or so riders have modded their bikes with racier tyres and extra-large chainrings in the hope they can be crowned champion.

However, the real story and where the admiration of the watching crowd lies, is within the 550 or so extra riders made up of amateurs, fancy-dress enthusiasts, Brompton lovers and one Cyclist web writer.

For example, there was Randy, a 60-something international pilot based out of Philadelphia, USA. He used some of his yearly-allocated free flights to make the start line, such is his love for Brompton.

‘Being a pilot, I take my Brompton all over the world with me, it is fantastic,’ Randy tells Cyclist. ‘This bikes been some incredible places but, honestly, the best place I’ve ever ridden is on the Grand Union Canal in London.’

Then there was Martin and Isabella. Perfectly dressed in matching red power suits, this happily married couple from Munich raced the Brompton Worlds 12 months previous, caught the bug and jumped on a flight back to the UK to do it all again.

‘We entered the race last year and enjoyed it so much we came back,’ admits Martin.

‘Both of us ride our Bromptons to work every day so coming to an event like this is pretty special,’ says Isabella.

The final rider to catch my eye before we all shuffle off to our starting position is Suzie from Somerset who, after complaining that London craft cider is ‘truly awful’, explains she loves Bromptons so much she has even given her bike a name.

‘This bike is called Titania because it is made of titanium,’ says Suzie. ‘It’s a racier model that only weighs 10kg which I have owned for 3 years. I actually rode it at last year’s event and finished 20th overall in the women’s category and 9th best British woman, too.’

It turns out Titania is one of six Bromptons currently loved by Suzie, who has come dressed as a physical representation of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers because ‘yellow is a happy colour that makes you smile’.

On your marks

You’d be forgiven for thinking the racing would be slow considering the bikes which are being raced but you’d be thoroughly mistaken. The lead group of hopefuls jostling for the win barely dip below 40kmh as they shoot around the 2km lap.

Led by former WorldTour pro, commentator and Brompton lover David Millar, the racing at the pointy end is no less intense than the closing stages of a Grand Tour stage.

Ok, it’s maybe not that intense, but the faces of pain and concentration give away just how difficult it really is.

Eventually, local lad and former profiteer from Brompton racing Alec Briggs takes the bunch finish to win the men’s category while its Keira McVitty who takes a solo win in the women's category. They are both awarded a Brompton for their troubles.

And as for the amateurs behind, most of them cross the line in dribs and drabs having been lapped long before the finish despite clocking an average speed of more than 30kmh in the 16km of racing.

Not that anyone was truly fussed by being lapped, as at the finish every competitor just seemed chuffed to have taken part and earned themselves the complimentary gin cocktail on completion.

In training with Astana

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James Witts
8 Aug 2019

The Kazakh team insist their chequered past is behind them, as Cyclist learns at a pre-season training camp in Spain

This article was originally published in issue 86 of Cyclist magazine

Words James Witts Photography Juan Trujillo Andrades

The Kazakh team insist their chequered past is behind them, as Cyclist learns at a pre-season training camp in Spain

Astana is a team that arouses suspicion. Much of it is warranted, owing to a long list of doping scandals; some of it, arguably, is simply down to the West’s scepticism of the exotic East.

But when Cyclist pays a visit to the Astana training camp near Benidorm in Spain in mid-December 2018, there is no sense of a team lurking beneath a cloud of controversy.

Laughter and cheering erupt from behind a curtain in the hotel restaurant, startling some of the nearby pensioners who are here for a spot of winter warmth.

In the closed-off area, Astana riders are tucking into the buffet dinner as new recruit Manuele Boaro climbs to his feet to address his teammates. ‘I look forward to a successful season,’ Boaro declares.

He is dressed in the Bahrain-Merida kit from his previous contract, adhering to the UCI’s rather ludicrous rule that a rider, despite being able to train with his new team, must wear his old kit until 1st January.

He also has what looks like a handkerchief, knotted in each corner, balanced on his head. Boaro then downs a glass of red wine, resulting in further banging of tables and raucous reaction from the rest of the team.

Fellow newcomer Merhawi Kudos from Dimension Data then follows suit. This is initiation Astana-style and, as it transpires, will lay the intoxicated foundations for the late-night shooting of the video for ‘Astana Pro Team – First-Ever Cycling Rap’ (look it up on YouTube).

The rap song, performed by the team, features such classic lines as, ‘I’m Vino, behind me is Martino,’ and, ‘It’s Lopez, Superman. Climbing fast is his plan.’

‘It’s going to be memorable,’ says Sven Jonker, the team’s Dutch press officer.

Anyone who’s seen the video since its release would surely concur. ‘It’s great for team bonding and to lighten the atmosphere and perception of the team,’ Jonker adds. And it’s a team that could certainly benefit from some positive PR.

Nefarious past

Astana, the team named after the capital of Kazakhstan, are unmistakeable in their sky-blue apparel. It’s this commitment to the colour that, suggests Jonker, is partly why many in the cycling community view the team’s every success – of which there were 33 in 2018, plus 62 podium places – with distrust.

‘Maybe a change of kit would represent a fresh start from the complicated past,’ says Jonker.

The ‘complicated past’ is a polite way of referring to a doping palmarès that reads like a Who’s Who of cycling. Alberto Contador won, and then lost, the 2010 Tour de France while racing for Astana after testing positive for clenbuterol.

Three years earlier, Alexander Vinokourov was caught blood doping at the 2007 Tour (his initial defence came from the Beano book of medicine, arguing that the blood rushing to his legs a day prior to the test raised haematocrit levels).

Then there’s Lance Armstrong. While the Texan never admitted to doping during his sole season (2009) with Astana, USADA stated the chances that it didn’t happen were one in a million.

Even in the brave new cycling world, guarded by the biological passport, Astana continued to be beset by doping controversies.

Soon after Vincenzo Nibali won the sixth of the team’s eight Grand Tour titles in 2014, five senior and development riders were caught doping with EPO and steroids.

The UCI investigated the team and it looked like their race licence would be rescinded. To much criticism, they retained their WorldTour spot but with ‘special measures’.

According to former rider and now general manager Vinokourov, it meant ‘we had to improve our organising structure, building more effective communication between team riders and staff and management.

‘There were a lot of different things we had to improve, but finally we managed to adhere to all the requirements and build an even stronger team.’

It’s not obvious what that means, but since then the highest-profile Astana rider to test positive (for human growth hormone) has been Tatiana Antoshina, who races for the women’s team.

Let’s hope this really does indicate that things have changed inside the Kazakh squad.

An easy five-hour ride

‘Today’s ride is around 150-160km,’ says trainer and Pep Guardiola-lookalike Artitz Arberas. Cyclist will be in Arberas’s car alongside directeur sportif Lars Michaelsen, who won Gent-Wevelgem in 1995 and wore the Vuelta’s leader’s jersey for three days in 1997.

‘We’ll work on the aerobic capacity of the riders,’ Arberas adds.

‘We’ve been working them hard on this camp and they’re flying home tomorrow, so today’s going to be an easy effort.’

We’d argue that a five-hour ride on hilly terrain, with last night’s vin rouge still coursing through the veins, is far from easy. But it shouldn’t prove too demanding for a team that includes ‘Superman’ – the nickname given to the team’s current Grand Tour hopeful, Miguel Angel Lopez.

The 25-year-old Colombian enjoyed a breakthrough season in 2018, finishing third at both the Giro d’Italia and Vuelta. The ever-improving performance of the 1.64m, 59kg rider convinced the team to release Fabio Aru in 2017.

The team’s other Grand Tour leader is Denmark’s Jakob Fuglsang, the former under-23 mountain bike World Champion who turned road pro in 2006, but didn’t really rise to prominence until 2017 when he outwitted Richie Porte to win the Critérium du Dauphiné.

They’re here on the training camp but not in the group we’re shadowing. They’re in groups two and three, whose primary aims are the Giro and Tour respectively. We’re following group one, which comprises riders heading to January’s Tour Down Under.

‘It means every training ride has been, on average, 30 minutes longer and more intense,’ explains Laurens De Vreese, the domestique who took centre stage in ‘that rap’ and will provide support duties for the team’s leader in Australia, Luis León Sánchez (who will go on to claim an impressive fourth in the general classification at the Tour Down Under).

The group also includes six Kazakh riders, including arguably the most successful homegrown rider, Alexey Lutsenko, who won a stage of the Vuelta in 2017.

Lutsenko, like most of the team’s Kazakh riders, will remain in this part of Spain for the winter, as temperatures average -4°C to -19°C in his home country. After the camp, Lopez will head back to Colombia while Fuglsang flies to his home in Monaco.

‘It’s been a busy camp,’ Fuglsang says. ‘We’ve had bike fitting, insoles moulded, the team presentation, aerodynamic analysis on the track in Valencia, plus medical checks at the hospital in Alicante.

‘Those are particularly important. We had one guy who had to leave the team because of fainting last year and the subsequent cardiac report from testing back in September.’

That rider, with whom Astana ‘decided not to extend contractual relations for 2019’, was Bakhtiyar Kozhatayev. His heart condition, while not life-threatening, was ‘incompatible with the loads that exist in the WorldTour’.

It’s an understandable precaution, bearing in mind that five years earlier, 19-year-old Astana Continental rider Yerlan Pernebekov died of a stroke on a training camp. There was no evidence of doping involved.

Training nirvana

Back to our group one training ride, and Sanchez, in search of racing legs, scorches off the front of the group. It’s effortless speed, helped by roads that are silky smooth and free of traffic. It’s why the likes of Sunweb, AG2R, Direct Energie, Dimension Data and Katusha regularly head here. That and the topography.

‘There’s a choice of climbs,’ says Arberas. ‘Some are long and steady, averaging 5-6% and reaching heights of 1,000m, measuring around 6-15km.

‘Then there are short, explosive ones that reach 25%.’ Today’s ride has more of the former with occasional instances of the latter thrown in.

De Vreese nearly topples off his bike on one of those 25% ascents, although more because he’s riding one-handed with his mobile in his other hand than becuse he’s unable to cope with the gradient. For the most part, though, the 150km pre-Christmas ride passes without incident.

Lemon and orange groves, cacti, olive trees and conifers line the road and provide a vibrant burst of colour against the dry, mountainous backdrop.

It’s a far cry from Benidorm, the manmade dystopia down the road that every now and then pokes its ugly head above the mist on the horizon. I ask Michaelsen whether the riders will train on Christmas Day. ‘They should do,’ he responds. ‘I certainly did, sometimes up to six hours.

‘It’s easy to say it’s raining today so I’ll only do two hours. But say that once and it happens again and again. It’s too easy. You’d never achieve your goals like that.’

How have things changed since he raced? ‘There used to be a greater focus on winter miles at lower intensity.

‘Nowadays, it’s fewer miles but at a higher intensity. We used to race more too, but one thing that has remained the same is moto-pacing. It’s a really effective way to simulate race situations.’

That shift in training intensity is credited to Team Sky, which brings us neatly onto our next subject. Was it a surprise that the media behemoths are going to withdraw from the sport at the end of 2019?

‘We were a little surprised, but I know the team had been planning for it for a while,’ says Michaelsen. ‘When they were sold to Comcast, they gave away the power of decision. They have to rely on the brand they’ve built up being strong enough to be sold.’

Spreading the Kazakh word

Once back at the hotel, the riders head to their rooms to shower before lunch. We try to track down Vinokourov for an interview, but it seems he has already evaporated into the warm Spanish sun and headed to the airport to return to Kazakhstan, where he has a second home (‘a gift for winning the Olympics’).

Instead we talk to team manager Dmitriy Fofonov, a Kazakh former pro who rode for Astana from 2010 to 2012.

‘The aim of the team is to develop the sport in our country,’ he says. ‘That’s why as well as the WorldTour team Astana has ProContinental, Continental and women’s teams.

‘The team is also there to spread the word about our country and our capital. That’s why the WorldTour team has around 30% Kazakh riders. That and their ability, of course.’

Astana have been spreading the word about Kazakhstan since the team was founded in 2007.

In that time they’ve been financed by Samruk Kazyna, the state sovereign wealth fund that owns much of the country’s resources, including its gas, oil, banking, telecoms and postal services.

The team is also sponsored by the Astana Presidential Club, an umbrella organisation that also finances football, basketball, ice hockey and boxing teams.

‘We used to have a team in the Dakar Rally too,’ adds Fofonov.

‘Twenty-seven years ago, when Kazakhstan declared independence [from the USSR], Astana used to be two small buildings. Now it’s crazy and even has its own White House.’

The Guardian called Astana ‘one of the strangest capital cities on Earth… where shiny metal and glass implausibly rises up from the Kazakh steppe like some post-modern Lego set that has stumbled into the opening sequence of Dallas.’

Before we can discuss the magnificent madness of the city in the desert further, Jonker calls us upstairs to talk with De Vreese while he has a post-ride massage.

In the hotel room, the 30-year-old Belgian displays the same sort of confidence as in the rap video by dropping his towel and obliging us to conduct the interview while confronted by his waist-down nudity.

Still, De Vreese’s physical openness is reflected in a candid conversation where he reveals he hasn’t had a break since his last race in China at the end of October, partly down to the precarious nature of cycling and a one-year contract.

He explains why he doesn’t use WhatsApp (‘cycling is all about teamwork and you need to communicate – that’s why I simply chat to someone if I want to know what’s going on’) and how the boost in the numbers of coaches has improved the team – ‘apart from the shit ones’.

So what are his hopes for 2019? ‘I think the Izagirre brothers [Ion and Gorka, arriving from Bahrain-Merida] will strengthen the team, while personally I’ll give the team everything I can,’ he says.

That evening at dinner, the mood is more sedate than it was last night. Perhaps the hangovers have kicked in. Perhaps the open and welcoming atmosphere was only a temporary break from the real, closed Astana?

For the sake of cycling and the team, let’s hope not.

Hansens Cykellob: Ice cream themed gravel sportive makes for a great day's riding

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Jack Elton-Walters
9 Aug 2019

The Hansens Cykelløb is a fantastic day out in the Danish countryside, as Cyclist found at the 2017 event. This year's event: 17/08/2019

The Hansens Cykelløb is a fantastic day out in the Danish countryside, as Cyclist found at the 2017 event

Words: Jack Elton-Walters  Photography: GripGrab Media Crew

The British sportive market is pretty saturated and many events seem to have fallen into a "stack ‘em high, sell ‘em cheap" approach with feed stations that leave a lot to be desired and routes that send riders along sometimes unwelcoming roads.

Only, a lot of the time they aren’t that cheap to enter even when the feed station offering is. You’d have to really stuff your pockets with energy gels to get back on a par if you were feeling short-changed by what many events offer.

This isn’t something I do or condone, but is a common sight at feed stations on the long route of almost any given sportive around Britain.

The idea of paying a premium to ride on roads you can tackle on any Sunday for an experience that’s lacking in any kind of wow factor sees more and more British riders heading away to foreign sportives, gran fondos and on cycling holidays and training camps.

There are the obvious choices such as the mass participation events that precede Classics like the Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix or week long trips to Mallorca and Tenerife, but there is an increasingly long list of unique events, each with its own character and approach.

Hansens Cykellob: Key information

Date: 17th August 2019  
Location: Hansens Flødeis, Landerslevvej 5, 3630 Jægerspris, Denmark  
Distance: 130km  
Entries: sportstiming.dk/event/5770  
More informationhansenscykellob.dk   
SponsorsHansens Flodeis and GripGrab   
More photosGripGrab Facebook

Proper gravel tracks

A unique event

One such international event is the Hansens Cykellob in Denmark. The 2017 edition, which I rode, was the second running of the sportive but it’d been in the pipeline for about five years before the inaugural event took place in 2016.

Hansens is a family-run Danish ice cream producer, now in the hands of its fourth generation. At the helm are brothers Anders and Rasmus who are motivated to run the event by a number of factors, none of which is money as they were quick to point out.

‘This is not for the money at all,’ says Rasmus. ‘This is for the good feeling, for people having a good time and having some good food.’

How a Danish ice cream company came to run a sportive ‘is really simple’ Anders tells me.

‘We love ice cream, we love bikes and this is just combining those,’ he says.

‘I think for us it’s a quite natural match,’ Rasmus offers.

The Hansens’ link to cycling goes back much further than this fantastic gravel ride, and it’s the history of cycling in the family that started the process that led to the Hansens Cykellob.

‘We’ve been making ice cream for four generations’, says Anders. ‘Our granddad had his own bicycle race in the ‘60s so we grew up with this notion about him having his own race, so we wanted to have our own.’

Varied parcours

Railway lines form a small but memorable part of the route

The 130km route combines tarmac roads, gravel tracks, singletrack in the woods and even a short section next to a small railway line.

Looking at the satellite trace on Strava and thinking back to the twists, turns and cut-throughs, it’s difficult to think how the route was ever conceived.

The route evolved from the first to the second year, but was fairly similar. ‘With a few modifications [from 2016],’ says Anders. ‘We added the hill sprint, that was new, and towards the finish was new too.’

Rasmus adds, ‘We thought actually that the route was very good last year so we thought it was ok to use it again.’

The hill sprint Anders mentioned came immediately after the first feed station.

The feed station itself was offering Hansens take on the humble choc ice: a chocolate covered frozen nougat bar which would score five stars if reviewed in its own right.

Dusty lanes towards the end of the sportive

The hill climb came straight after: a 20%+, loose surfaced narrow path up the side of a vegetation covered sand dune. Families of other riders were dotted along the upper slopes and cheered strangers as keenly as friends.

Just how they settled on the route, however, comes down to local knowledge and a willingness to explore the area on two wheels.

‘Rasmus lives in Copenhagen,’ Anders points out. ‘He rides his bike to work, which is quite a ride [about 50km one way], and he knows a lot of the small, secret forest tracks.

‘So a lot of it came from him.’

Woodland trails test those who opted for a standard road bike set-up

International appeal

Despite this being only the second edition of the event, it is already proving popular very close to home and much further afield.

Good friend and fellow Islander Tim Wiggins joined me on the trip to Denmark. Tim is the blogger behind lifeinthesaddle.cc and was using the Danish event as the starting point of a touring ride to Andorra.

In addition to us two from the UK were riders from elsewhere in Europe as well as the village that hosted the start/finish.

‘We had a guy flying in from Spain,’ Anders says. ‘There a lot of people from Sweden, and then the first person to pick up his number was a local guy.

‘Having that bridge from the very local to everybody in the world is magical.’

In mind of the often rabid local opposition that some cycling events in the UK suffer – think drawing pins on the road and people driving on closed road courses – I was interested to know if there were any objections to this event.

‘No opposition, no,’ says Rasmus, surprised to hear about some of the responses to events back home.

A puncture this late would delay the finish line milkshakes and beers

Word of mouth

Despite its rapidly growing popularity, advertising for the event is confined to local bike shops and most people know about it through word of mouth.

Since riding the event I’ve been telling anyone who will listen how great it was, so it wouldn’t take many of the local riders to come away with the same experience to spread the word around Denmark.

‘Last year we had 250 riders,’ says Anders. ‘This year we decided to go for 400 and it was sold out two weeks before the event.’

‘We’ll have 4000 next year!’ Rasmus shouts with a chuckle. ‘No! It’s a pretty small place, so maybe a few more [than this year] but it’s not going to be thousands.’

It was wet and marshy on this descent

Indeed, parts of the course would struggle to take many more people. The start of the event sees the peloton led out by a huge Hansens ice cream tanker, with motorcycle outriders front and back.

Sending 400 riders down an A road with this kind of escort is no problem at all, and once the tanker peels off at the end of the neutral zone the bunch soon splits into vastly different pace groups.

A long way ahead there's an ice cream lorry

Riding along with the GripGrab group, an early touching of wheels saw a couple of our number go down and so we lost our position in the bunch.

Martin, GripGrab’s photographer had to call it a day before we left the neutral roll-out as he’d lost a couple of spokes. Tim’s bike suffered a twisted mech hanger that saw his complete the event on only three gears.

Although far from an ideal start, this did mean we had more freedom on the course to set our own pace and choose our lines in the woods.

It was easy to see how the race could get over-subscribed when a tree root covered incline on one trail caused a concertina effect that saw several riders, me included, topple over sideways.

Everyone got back up unharmed, but you can see how with a bigger peloton there could be more problems.

Gloves for cycling and holding ice creams

The GripGrab - and guests - group before setting off

GripGrab, the Danish cycling and run accessories brand, is the co-sponsor of the sportive and they were out in force on the day. All three of the Kroyer brothers, who founded the company, were riding and it’s in that group that Tim and I rode for the duration of the day.

The hill sprint that was added to the course this year served as a prime with the winner getting a brand new pair of GripGrab race mitts as a prize.

Kristian, the eldest of the three brothers, managed to win a pair of his own gloves back and so swiftly tossed them into the ice cream eating crowd at the end of the day.

The day's KOM

To calm down the racers and reassert the ethos of fun into the day, the lunch stop is within a time-neutral area with timing mats on the entrance and exit.

Here we were treated to sandwiches, fruit and ice cream of similar size to a rider’s head.

Tim enjoys his obligatory ice cream

I first met Heine Dahl Nielsen while queuing for a massive ice cream at the lunch stop, and I caught up with him again at the end of the sportive.

'I read an article about the event, spoke to my friend and we agreed to do it,' he tells me. 'We signed up about half a year ago.'

Despite how long ago he and his riding companion put their names down, the field was already over 25% full.

'It's a very good day, but a very hard day,' he says. 'Last weekend I did the coast to coast race, which was around 200km, but this was much harder.'

Possibly highlighting one reason for the popularity of the Hansens Cykellob, Nielsen says this was his first gravel sportive and that 'there are very few races here in Denmark.'

I spent the day on a Ridley X-Trail gravel bike, which was ideal for the mixed parcours as it handled just as well on tarmac, gravel and muddy trail.

Nielsen took the option that many riders went for and converted his road bike into a gravel bashing machine. 'I'm a roadie, but I've got a Specialized Roubaix and I added some fatter tyres to it, and that was perfect.'

The event was offering finishers priority entry for the following year's ride, an offer Nielsen was ready to accept. 'We're definitely tempted, it's a great race.'

A welcome sit down

Unrivalled scenery

Refuelled and universally grinning, the sportivistes are sent out of the café and onto a waterside track that traces the edge of the Roskilde Fjord.

The pace involuntarily slowed as we found ourselves in awe of the views across the water and beyond.

This was a stunning part of an all-round picturesque route, and the only time you weren’t treated to a cracking view was when riding deep in the woods and needing to concentrate on the trail and the wheel in front.

Very few people were able to ride up this late kicker

The closing stages of the route took in some proper gravel riding, clipping along at speed down farm tracks between recently harvested wheat fields, in scenery much like the near-unmatched vistas that Tim and I grew up riding through on the Isle of Wight.

Covered in dust but still grinning, everyone was welcomed back to Hansens HQ with truly the best chocolate milkshake I’ve ever tasted.

On top of that was a locally sourced beef salad lunch, beers and yet more top notch ice cream.

Smiles and beers at the finish

This is an event every British rider wanting to expand their sportive horizons should consider and is quite probably the best event - at home or abroad - that I've had the pleasure of riding.

It might not have the altitude of the alps or the iconic status of Flandrien cobbles, but this event more than makes up for it with a challenging route, unmatched feed stations and one of the friendliest welcomes I've found.

‘It’s nice to gather people who have the passion for the same thing,’ concludes Anders.

‘Our passion is cycling and ice cream, and we’re combining something that’s really tough with something that’s all about enjoying life. I think that’s the essence of it.’

This article first appeared on Cyclist.co.uk in September 2017


The long road: Seana Hogan at the Race Across America (RAAM)

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Peter Stuart
9 Aug 2019

Seana Hogan has won the Race Across America six times, and at the age of 59 she shows no sign of stopping…

This article was originally published in issue 89 of Cyclist magazine

Words Peter Stuart Photography Jaka Vinsek

Seana Hogan has won the Race Across America six times, and at the age of 59 she shows no sign of stopping.

‘Race Across America is really a metaphor for life,’ says Seana Hogan. ‘There’s something about it that lets you know you’re living. It makes you feel alive. You have to live in the moment and even enjoy the painful moments, as you can’t experience the good without the bad.’

She should know. Hogan won the Race Across America (RAAM) six times between 1992 and 1998. She then took a break before returning to the sport in 2013, and has since won two age group titles in the 50-59 category. She is a legend of the event.

The Californian’s fastest time over the 4,686km route (which varies slightly from year to year) is nine days, four hours and two minutes in 1995. That’s an average of 21.3kmh, inclusive of sleep and resting time.

In 2018, at the age of 58, she once again demonstrated her dominance, finishing two hours ahead of the runner-up in the 50-59 age group.

‘I don’t like to count it as a win,’ Hogan says. ‘It’s just an age group win and it takes away from the people who have overall wins, which are so much more than an age group win.’

It doesn’t take long to realise that Hogan is a woman who would never take an easy win over one that’s been hard earned. She is the type of rider who showcases the severity of RAAM and the mystic allure of ultra-endurance racing.

How the race works

The format of RAAM is fairly simple – it’s a race from the west coast of the USA to the east. Unlike some ultra-endurance events, the route is prescribed. Every road, every turning, is determined by the race director.

‘If you miss a turn you have to go back,’ says Hogan. ‘You can’t choose your own route. You have to cover every inch of the course for the RAAM. Every inch.’

The 2018 edition started in Oceanside, California, and worked its way through states such as Colorado, Kansas, Missouri and Illinois before ending in Annapolis in Maryland.

A support car follows each competitor, and during the night the rules stipulate that a vehicle must be behind each rider, shining its headlights over them. The support is intense work, and Hogan jokes that anyone arriving to join the support crew with a book and camera is usually in for a surprise.

It’s this vehicle support that makes RAAM different to other ultra-endurance events such as the Transcontinental or Tour Divide, where riders support themselves and often choose their own routes. It doesn’t make the challenge any easier, though.

‘At RAAM the clock starts at the start line and doesn’t finish until you get to the finish line,’ says Hogan. ‘Everything you do in between counts. So if you’re off your bike for five minutes trimming your toenails then that time counts against you.’

Hard yards

While Hogan has achieved a degree of fame for her exploits at RAAM, she says she was a late arrival to ultra-endurance cycling.

‘As a child I used to ride my bicycle to swimming practice, but that was it – the bike was just a form of transport. In college I didn’t exercise at all, and when I started working at IBM I used to ride with some colleagues after work. One guy was doing a double century – a 200-mile ride. I thought maybe I could try that. I liked it and didn’t find it too difficult.’

Hogan quickly found that she had a taste for ultra-endurance cycling, and was soon being encouraged into longer and tougher events.

‘A friend was riding a quadruple century at the LA Wheelmen Grand Tour. It was 1991 and I wanted to try the 300-mile option, but once I got to 300 miles I didn’t want to get in the van for six hours to the finish – I’d rather just ride. So I did the 400 miles, and everyone told me I should try to qualify for RAAM.’

It wasn’t all smooth sailing in that first year, though: ‘I did a quadruple century in June, and then I crashed at a race at the end of July.

‘I don’t really know what happened because I hit my head hard enough that I can’t remember it. I was with a friend and it was before cellphones. We were in the backside of Mount Hamilton in the wilderness. The nearest payphone was a 2,000-foot [600m] climb all the way to the top of the mountain. I couldn’t move at all. I had eight broken ribs, and there were wild pigs, which are big and aggressive, out there in the woods.

‘I said, “No, you can’t leave me with the pigs!” It was 2am, so we waited for someone to drive by. A guy in a pick-up came by and they tried to load me into the truck. With my broken ribs I just couldn’t move, so they had to fly in a helicopter. It was very scary.’

She healed incredibly quickly and raced the RAAM that same year, establishing a tough routine of non-stop long distances and little sleep that has proved equally successful in subsequent events. Although, looking back, Hogan admits that her tactics at first weren’t always effective.

‘Back in the 1990s I wouldn’t sleep on the first night,’ she says. ‘My goal was to win, and I wanted to beat all the men, but I wasn’t very smart about it. If I’d been a bit more conservative and smart about it I would have actually stood a better chance.’

Highs and lows

The lack of sleep required to get a good time is the toughest part of the race, she says. ‘There are a lot of dark moments. You think the crew is against you and they’re making you go around in circles because you haven’t slept.

‘I once went to sleep and woke up with no idea where I was. I needed to ride for hours before I remembered I was racing the RAAM. I once thought I was physically shackled to my bike.’

Amid those moments of confusion and exhaustion are times of true elation while riding through the grandeur of the US landscape.

‘There’s that romanticism of the history of the places you go through,’ Hogan says. ‘Sometimes you wonder what was it like to be the first person to come here. What was it like coming into Monument Valley and seeing these huge structures? You had to be in awe. I remember riding through there and feeling so small.’

Hogan admits that in the midst of competition, it’s often the low moments of rivals that provide the most bittersweet euphoria.

‘Everybody cries on this race,’ Hogan says. ‘The men, the women – everybody cries. I was racing against Rob Kish, who’s done the race about 20 times, and we were close to each other in Oklahoma.

‘I asked one of the team to drive up the road to tell me how far ahead he was. They came back and said, “He’s off his bike and he’s crying.” I remember shouting, “Yes!”’

Keep rollin’ on

When this magazine hits the shelves, Hogan will be on the road again, racing in the 2019 edition of RAAM. Does she have any sage advice for anyone thinking of signing up to the event themselves?

‘When it comes to nutrition, most of my meals are liquid,’ she says. ‘I try to have liquid protein and carbs on the bike. I know how many bottles I need each hour. I never drink water on its own, because that’s dangerous – there’s just not enough sodium, so you risk hyponatremia.

‘I tell the crew I would really like a McDonald’s hamburger about once or twice a day, just to chew on something. I always have the cheapest cheeseburger because they stick together best.’

As for choice of bike, Hogan says, ‘You don’t really gain much time on a time-trial bike because your need for comfort starts outweighing the aerodynamic advantages. If you’re not comfortable you’re not moving. You’re off the bike dealing with your discomforts. I have tri bars but they’re  just for comfort.’

And what about tackling extreme events as you get older? ‘This year I’m probably at about 80 per cent of what I used to be,’ Hogan says. ‘I have to be a little bit smarter if I want to make it to the end.

‘I think it’s good just for mental health to keep riding at any age, though. If I feel depressed I just get out there and ride. It just keeps me young! I honestly believe you have to live young to be young.’

Reasons to be cheerful: What to expect from the rest of the 2019 cycling season

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Joe Robinson
13 Aug 2019

From a home Worlds to the return of Van der Poel, there's still plenty to expect from the 2019 cycling season

The Tour de France may be over and the Spring Classics may be a distant memory but the 2019 cycling season still has plenty to offer.

In fact, there are still eight men’s WorldTour and seven women’s WorldTour races still to be settled and the small issues of a World Championships in Yorkshire too.

The final, and often most unpredictable, Grand Tour of the year, the Vuelta a Espana, is coming up soon and the last of the five Monuments, Il Lombardia, is still there to be settled.

The latter half of the season can produce some of the very best racing. Top riders are often tired, some are battling for a new contract or team to carry them through the next season and many are looking to make a name for themselves. 

And, as is now tradition, we get to see the all-conquering Dutch women's national team in full flow.

Below Cyclist takes a look at some of the things we can look forward to from the remainder of the 2019 season.

A tantalizing Tour of Britain

As a result of this year’s UCI World Championships taking place in Donny Yorkshire, the Tour of Britain could benefit from its best start list in, well, a year.

The Tour of Britain starts on Saturday 7th September in Glasgow before culminating on Saturday 14th September in Manchester.

This is only one week before the UCI World Championships begin 60 miles to the north in Harrogate, Yorkshire.

Being so close in both date and location, we reckon some of the world’s biggest talents could opt for a week of racing around Britain's toughest roads as final prep before taking a tilt for rainbow two weeks later.

We already know that Corendon-Circus will be leading the charge with ‘Het fenomeen’ Mathieu van der Poel, the greatest thing to happen to cycling since the invention of the rear derailleur.

Primoz Roglic is also scheduled to be coming to lead the Jumbo-Visma charge, hoping to improve on his third place from last year. He is a hot favourite for the individual time-trial rainbow bands, too, so expect him to be flying.

Don’t be surprised if Geraint Thomas returns for Team Ineos, Dimension Data bring Mark Cavendish and hey, even Romain Bardet may come along for AG2R-La Mondiale. He does love Blighty after all.

The return of MVDP

Cast your mind back to the spring, when the sun was shining and we were all looking forward to a summer filled with cycling.

For a brief period of about two months, a Dutch cyclist called Mathieu van der Poel dipped his toe into the water of road cycling in a brief break between his cyclocross and mountain bike season.

What followed was almost dream-like as the 24-year-old took six wins, two of which were WorldTour one-day race, and one of which was single-handedly one of the greatest rides we have seen in the modern era.

Before we’d even had time to comprehend what had happened, Van der Poel had disappeared.

Now, after a summer of winning everything on a mountain bike, cycling’s biggest talent is back and taking aim at the rainbow jersey in Yorkshire with a brief trip to the Tour of Britain beforehand.

He is hot favourite to take the Worlds and there is a genuine excitement across the cycling community that Van der Poel is going to treat us to some of the most watchable racing we have seen in years. Get excited.

The changing of the guard to continue

Out with the old, in with the new. Riders who were good yesterday have gone stale and it turns out you can only win things with kids in 2019.

Well, that’s not strictly true (as Jakob Fuglsang and Philippe Gilbert monumentally showed us in the spring) but it does seem as if the generational shift in cycling has happened. Just look at who has won races this year:

A 26-year-old Ecuadorian called Richard Carapaz won the Giro d’Italia only to be upstaged by a 22-year-old from neighbouring Colombia called Egan Bernal who took his country’s first ever Tour de France.

25-year-old pasta enthusiast Alberto Bettiol won the Tour of Flanders, 20-year-old Tadej Podcar won the Tour of California, 22-year-old Pavel Sivakov won the Tour of Poland and 24-year-old Van der Poel seemed to win everything during April.

Oh, and a 19-year-old millennial called Remco Evenepoel won Classica San Sebastian and the European time-trial Championships.

Expect this wave of youth to continue its domination through the Vuelta a Espana, Il Lombardia and most probably the Worlds, too.

The resurgence of Nairo Quintana

While I realise I just waxed lyrical about the changing of the guard and the new generation taking over, something deep in my bones tells me that we are going to witness a resurgence of Nairo Quintana at the Vuelta a Espana.

Well, this is unlikely to happen but I really want it to so Quintana can silence the haters that routinely call him overrated, one of the most inaccurate opinions held in pro cycling currently.

The fella is a Giro d’Italia and Vuelta a Espana champion, has won Tirreno-Adriatico twice, Cataluyna, Pays Basque, Romandie and has podiumed three times at the Tour de France during the reign of cycling’s most dominant team ever.

That’s a palmares wide enough to be compared to the likes of Vincenzo Nibali, Chris Froome and teammate Alejandro Valverde, in my opinion.

He is genuinely one of the world’s best climbers who has produced some of the most tantalising Grand Tour stages in recent memory, Stage 15 of the 2015 Vuelta to Formigal being the best.

If Movistar gave him a clear run at the Vuelta later this month, I genuinely think he could be in the running for red.

The best World Championships ever?

The racing will be good, that’s a given with the names scheduled to be taking place across the various events, but what could really make this year’s World Championships the best ever is its fans.

Any time cycling visits Yorkshire, the crowds come out in force but we expect the Worlds to attract unprecedented levels of support.

Host city Harrogate will be an absolute cycling mecca between Sunday 21st September and Sunday 29th September as the Worlds descend on this quaint Yorkshire town.

The men's and women's road races will tackle some of Yorkshire’s best roads, too, which will just as busy as the finish and provide a unique opportunity for British fans to see one of cycling’s most iconic races on its doorstep.

On the menu, for example, is Buttertubs which laid host to images like the below when featured in the 2014 Tour de France.

Yorkshire is no stranger to hosting cycling events anymore. Since taking on the Tour Grand Depart duties in 2014, the UK’s biggest county has hosted its annual Tour de Yorkshire men’s and women’s stage races, which has routinely attracted roadside fan sizes matched by on Grand Tour mountain days and the cobbled classics of Spring, so expect this to be organised to a tee.

The Worlds are going to big so make sure you go along so you can say you were there.

The Grossglockner: Austria's Alpine giant

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James Spender
13 Aug 2019

In the Alps just south of Salzburg lies Austria’s most imposing peak – the Grossglockner. So naturally Cyclist had to ride up it

This article was originally published in issue 88 of Cyclist magazine

Words James Spender Photography Juan Trujillo Andrades

I have always found Austria charming, much like Switzerland but without having to pay €45 for a cafe stop.

Austria enjoys the full bandwidth of the Alps, and through its landlocked state draws on cultures from Hungary to Italy and beyond, yet remains itself very much Austrian.

You will find the traditionally rude waiters in the coffee houses of Vienna, world-class orchestras in the magisterial concert halls of Salzburg and the unmissable décolletage of dirndl-clad receptionists in Alpine hotels.

In the most endearing sense, Austria is an almost impossible pastiche of itself, delivered without irony.

It is friendly – homely even – but encompasses landscapes that run the full gamut from idyllic to downright daunting, all the while existing just as it has been portrayed in musicals and adverts for muesli.

There’s a ‘Sound of Music World’ in Salzburg, and there’s nothing quite like the breakfast buffet in a decent Austrian hotel.

This is why, when the Cyclist council met and began to push little wooden cyclists around a map of Europe with plotting rakes, all roads seemed to lead to Austria, and to one road in particular: the Großglockner-Hochalpenstraße, or the Grossglockner High Alpine Road, Austria’s highest paved mountain pass.

Composing chocolate

I arrive at Salzburg airport with an afternoon to while away, so take a taxi to the old town. It feels suitably ancient, from its 11th century Hohensalzburg Fortress overlooking the city to the many Baroque churches and cobbled streets that radiate away from the banks of the River Salzach.

It’s this river that gave rise to the name Salzburg, meaning ‘Salt Castle’, because more than a millennium ago barges carrying salt had to pay a toll to continue through the city limits.

Beyond Julie Andrews’ warblings, Salzburg is famed for being the birthplace of Mozart. And for its sweet tooth. So with minutes to spare before I’m due to get my transfer to the foot of the Grossglockner, I make for Cafe Konditorei Fürst.

This is Salzburg’s most lauded confectioners and the birthplace of the Mozartkugel, a dark chocolate-coated, praline-covered marzipan bonbon named in honour of the great composer and created by chocolatier Paul Fürst in 1890.

A more cultured traveller than I would have planned a trip to Salzburg to coincide with a performance of Mozart at the acclaimed Großes Festspielhaus concert hall, but given the prospect of tomorrow’s 3,600m of climbing over just 85km, I’m in the business of hoovering up as many calories as I can get my hands on with a cyclist’s impunity.

The Gross depart

The morning sees me searching for the mains switch in the Hotel Römerhof’s restaurant-bar. Last night it was packed with rosy-cheeked patrons clinking and singing into the night, but at 5.30am it’s eerily quiet.

The hotel owners have kindly laid out a serviceable breakfast for me, and I’m joined by Manuel Weissenbacher, who dutifully put himself forward to ride with me today despite it necessitating a 4am start for him to drive the 100km south from his home in Salzburg to where this Big Ride starts: the tiny town of Fusch, lying at the feet of the Hohe Tauern mountain range of the Central Eastern Alps.

Manuel is a retired professional mountain biker but admirably has undertaken to shave his legs for the first time in a year and, already in bibshorts, still looks every bit the whippet.

His enthusiastic demeanour is infectious, which is appreciated when we sit down to study the forecast. Not that the symbol for rain needs much studying.

However, he explains, the Grossglockner road is subject to abruptly changeable conditions given that it straddles the Alpine divide – the chain of high mountains that runs the length of the Alps and separates the north and south drainage basins.

It can be raining on one side, he tells me, while being gloriously sunny on the other.

Thus, at the mercy of a swirling weather front, we push our bikes out into fresh air and begin pedalling towards some decidedly dark-looking peaks.

With the sun breaking blearily overhead, Fusch is quintessential in its loveliness. The town’s wooden buildings are wrapped in cascades of pansies and petunias.

Neatly kempt lawns rise up the flanks of the surrounding mountains, disappearing into forests of larch and spruce that spill down the slopes like rivers.

Everything is quiet – the kind of quiet that if you stop pedalling and sit for a moment, the rhythmic throb of blood being pumped around your skull becomes deafening. The idea is tempting too, because the road out of town is already on the up and my legs are making more effort than I had expected this early.

At 3,798m, the Grossglockner is the highest peak in Austria, so it’s little surprise that the pass that traverses its flanks is chalked as Austria’s highest – albeit not its highest paved road, an award that goes to the dead end atop the 2,829m Ötztal Glacier Road in Tyrol, some 200km to the west of us.

The high point of the Grossglockner High Alpine Road is at 2,504m, although that won’t be the highest point we’ll reach, as a short diversion to a lookout point will add another 67m of vertical ascent.

The distances involved mean we won’t be attempting a loop today, but will instead be simply heading up and back along the same road.

At Ferleiten, 7km from Fusch, we arrive at a series of wooden-roofed tollbooths that span the road, each with a green tick on their neon signs indicating the Grossglockner is open for business, but only at a price.

Unless you are a cyclist, that is. For Manuel and me the road is free (although we could buy a timing ticket for €2 should we wish), but for motorists it’s €36.50.

That might sound like a fair whack, but as we advance past the tolls it becomes apparent where the money goes. The road is wide and near-perfect in surface, with lines so crisply white they could have been shined this morning.

This pass has twice featured in the Giro d’Italia, but I can’t imagine the municipal officials letting road graffiti hang around for long. Moreover, this pass was only ever intended as a scenic route for tourists.

Who’s laughing now?

It’s an odd place to end up in life when, presented with a view of breathtaking natural splendour, the first thing you say is, ‘Wow, look at that road!’ But by the time we reach Fuscher Törl, 13km after leaving the tollbooths, that’s exactly what both Manuel and I utter in unison.

Looking down onto a vast valley, it’s the beauty of the snaking black ribbon of tarmac that draws our breath, and it’s at this point that I realise cycling has well and truly claimed me.

Parts of the valley swirl in and out of existence with the rapidly moving mist, which at this altitude might in fact be considered cloud.

From this vantage point everything is so distant as to appear miniature, yet the only feeling of smallness comes from being here in the first place, an insignificant human dropped onto the lip of a gargantuan granite cauldron. 

There are, however, several manmade structures. One is a signpost, along with a time card stamping machine, that tells us we are now at 2,248m, meaning we have ascended 1,145m since the tollbooths.

The other is a monument to the storied past of this road.

Initially the plan for this pass, first suggested in 1924, was laughed out of town, but with post-war unemployment running at 26% the Austrian government gave the go-ahead to project leaders Franz Rehrl and Franz Wallack, who were convinced an automotive dawn was imminent and that Austria’s slice of the Alps could be monetised.

So what was once a Celt and Roman muleskinners’ dirt track became a 6m wide asphalt totem to automotive tourism (today it’s a uniform 7.5m wide all the way).

Thus 3,200 Austrians found gainful employment, of whom 13 sadly died in the construction process, to be remembered alongside the Glossglockner Pass’s creators in the stone-built memorial.

At whatever cost – one that has risen over the years with the deaths of eight more construction workers and numerous thrill-seeking motorists – the Grossglockner Pass made history, allowing the two Franzes to make the first crossing of the Alp divide by automobile in 1934.

Indeed, beyond the memorial, Franz Wallack’s legacy lives on in the bright blue snow ploughs he designed and had made in the 1950s, which 65 years later are still going strong, albeit today they lay dormant along the roadside, waiting to be called upon again next spring to clear nearly one million cubic metres of snow.

From November to April, Manuel tells me, most of what we’ve just pedalled up lies buried, the pass officially closed.

Apparition road

Before we reach the highest stretch of the pass itself, there is still the matter of detouring to today’s highest point, although from our current position in a layby adorned with fluttering national flags, where that road might be is anyone’s guess.

All I can see is a sign declaring ‘Edelweissspitze, 2km’ that points towards a piece of tarmac vanishing into mist.

On closer inspection it becomes apparent this white-out is aided by the fact the black tarmac has given way to dull-white cobbles.

With a few gear-changing chonks Manuel rises from his saddle and drifts into the whiteness, the muted rattling of his drivetrain over uneven stones the only proof he’s still ahead.

The road runs to double-figure gradients in parts. On another day the views from here would be expansive, but today the horizon is stifled by cloud, and when we reach the lookout point at 2,571m, we could in truth be anywhere.

There’s not much reason to linger, so we turn around and descend tentatively for 2km back to the main road, our tyres struggling for grip on the greasy cobbled hairpins.

Once back on tarmac, the road dips tantalisingly for a second but soon enough we’re rising again through another set of hairpins and disappearing into a cool, dim tunnel that ties together the two Austrian regions of Salzburg, from whence we’ve come, and Carinthia.

Emerging from the gloom we turn to face the tunnel’s mouth, over which are inscribed the words In te Domine speravi, a quote from Psalm 71 that translates as ‘In thee, O Lord, I have put my trust’.

It seems a fair appraisal of the situation, given the 300m length of the tunnel and how many thousands of tonnes of rock sit above it.

To the right of the mouth is a blue sign confirming that we have arrived at the pass’s highest point: ‘Hochtor 2,504m’, and above that, a red digital sign puts a number to what our shivering bodies already know: 5.9°C.

Emperor king

Our last port of call before we return down the mountain is a 7.8km diversion to the Kaiser Franz-Josef Höhe, a beauty spot named after the intrepid regent who holidayed here in 1856.

To reach it, we begin by descending a short distance down the southern side of the Grossglockner, which looks more barren and moonscaped than the northern side we ascended.

The sun has come out, the corners are wide and banked, and my legs are grateful for the respite of a proper descent.

But no sooner does my mind start to drift with gravity than the road seesaws and winds upwards again past the thundering waters of the Fensterbach Waterfall, whose negative ions are said to be good for the lungs, but which also, given the signage, appears to have its own marketing department.

For one last time the road plateaus before sweeping artfully by a mountain refuge and its lonely-looking accomplice, the tiny, wooden-tiled Pasterzenhaus chapel, whose breathtaking views must only be matched by the breathtaking effort required by its parishioners to get here.

We climb past 2,200m via several lengthy hairpins to arrive at the Kaiser’s favoured lookout spot, and it is certainly a sight to behold.

Below us is the Pasterze Glacier, an unmoving river of ice, white in opacity against the surrounding cliff faces that are near purple by contrast.

In the Kaiser’s day the glacier was 11km long, but the effects of climate change have seen it shorten to 8km and its volume halved.

Yet even so it presides with majesty over the dams and valleys in its lee, holding court like the Glossglockner’s giant weeping eye, frozen forever in time.

There is, however, one good thing humans have wrought upon this particular spot – a restaurant, and the chance to restock and warm up before about-facing and repeating this route in reverse.

But having completed 2,700m of ascent to get here, the remaining 900m should be a cinch – providing the weather holds.

The old up ’n’ over

Tackle the northern side of the Grossglockner High Alpine Road

To download this route go to cyclist.co.uk/88austria. Head due south out of Fusch on highway 107/the Grossglockner High Alpine Road. Pass through the tollbooths at Ferleiten, collecting a brevet ticket if you wish (only available before 9am and after 3pm).

Climb 12.9km to Fuscher Törl. In the main car park at the top, look for the sign for ‘Edelweissspitze, 2km’ and follow this cobbled road to the 2,571m peak. Descend carefully back down to the car park, head towards the memorial at Fuscher Törl and keep following the 107 round, towards Heiligenblut/Lienz.

At 36km take the first exit at the roundabout and climb towards Kaiser Franz-Josef Höhe. Stop for a bite at its restaurant then reverse the journey back to Fusch.

The rider’s ride

Condor Leggero SL Disc, £7,650 (£3,599.99 frameset only), condorcycles.com

In this day and age it seems absurd to come to the Alps and not take a disc bike, especially given the likelihood of damp weather. Similarly, fitting the widest tyres possible also seems a smart move, despite the extra weight.

Thus, furnished with Campagnolo H11 disc brakes and 28mm wide Continental GP4000S II tyres, the Leggero SL was every bit the mountain goat I was looking for.

At 7.23kg it was light but not flattering up inclines, but I’d trade that weight twice over for the confidence the Leggero presented down washed-out descents that even included cobbled hairpins.

The Campagnolo Bora One wheels were also an excellent addition, their mid-sectioned 35mm rim profile and 1,483g weight (claimed) providing rapid acceleration and good rolling speed yet being shallow enough to withstand the occasional gust.

Yet the standout feature is the Leggero SL frameset, which hit the sweet-spot between fast handling and stability. In these conditions, it far outclassed its rider.

How we did it

Travel

We flew from Gatwick to Salzburg, which takes two hours and costs around £140 with British Airways. Ryanair flies from Stansted for £74, but BA proved the cheaper option as it counts bicycles in its hold luggage allowance, whereas Ryanair charges £60 each way for a bike. From Salzburg it’s a 90-minute drive to Fusch.

Accommodation

We stayed at the four-star Hotel Römerhof in Fusch, which is right on this Big Ride’s start line. It’s well appointed with all the usual wellness mod cons, and in late summer serves up a delicious menu of locally hunted game. Bikes are welcome, of course, and service is incredibly friendly and adaptable to late arrivals and early starts. Double rooms from €89pn. See roemerhof-fusch.at for more details.

Thanks

The planning and organisation of this trip was meticulous, so big thanks to Yvonne Rosenstatter, Alice Rager and Christina Standler-Kahlenbach of the SalzburgerLand tourist board (salzburgerland.com), and Jane Parritt and Anne Morgan from Media Contacts PR (mediacontactspr.co.uk) for putting it all together.

Huge thanks also to Markus Hankl, who drove our photographer Juan around all day, and who can reverse up a 1-in-10 like you’ve never seen. So too thanks to Manuel Weissenbacher for riding with us and offering crucial insights to the area.

‘I had to wait while he’s wiping his bum with my fresh GB hat’: Colin Lewis Q&A

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Giles Belbin
13 Aug 2019

The first Welshman to ride the Tour on Geraint Thomas, Tom Simpson and Eddy Merckx

This article was originally published in issue 86 of Cyclist magazine

Words Giles Belbin Photography Alexander Rhind

We hear you only started cycling because of a bet with a friend?

Yes, when I was a teenager I used to go out drinking in Torquay on Saturday nights. After one night out, I woke up late and a friend was downstairs.

He said, ‘Come on, get up. It’s nearly midday. We’ve got to change this pattern.’

He was a decent footballer and he bet me that in two years he would play for Torquay United’s Colt team. Then he said, ‘What are you going to do?’ The 1960 Olympic Games were on so I said, ‘I bet I’ll go to the Olympic Games in four years.’

That afternoon I fished my old bike out the shed and rode to Teignmouth. After four or five days back cycling I began enjoying what I was doing.

Just three years later you were riding the Tour of Britain. That’s quite a progression

I’d won a couple of regional races in 1963 and got a call from a chap called Chas Messenger, who organised the Tour of Britain. He asked if I wanted to ride for the Commonwealth team.

They said they’d pay my train fare so I went. The first stage was Blackpool to Nottingham and I finished fifth. I wore the green jersey for two days and came ninth overall.

What did you learn from such a competitive race?

That I’d been using my strength in the wrong way. All of a sudden I realised that instead of going straight round people all the time I should sit on them and measure my effort.

The following year I got a letter saying I’d been selected for the World Championships in Sallanches, France. That was a tough day.

The break went early and I was in it but on the final climb the peloton was coming back.

One of the riders I was with looked over, winked, then rode away. I hesitated and thought I’d wait, but he went on to win.

That guy was Eddy Merckx. Chas came up to me afterwards and told me I was going to the Olympics in Tokyo.

So you won your bet. After turning professional you were part of the British team that went to the 1967 Tour de France in support of Tom Simpson…

Tom was a consummate professional. He did everything properly and had his own soigneur with him. During one early stage he came back to me and said, ‘Colin, give me your hat.’

With that, he whipped my Great Britain, white, starched team hat off my head. I said, ‘What are you doing, Tom?’ ‘I want a shit,’ he said. ‘I need it to wipe my arse! Wait for me.’

So I had to wait while he’s wiping his bum with my fresh GB hat – my pride and joy. And then I had to tow him back to the peloton!

Tragically Simpson died during that Tour after collapsing on Mont Ventoux. You were rooming with him. What can you remember about that stage?

I’d just done my fifth or sixth bar raid of the day [where riders would descend on cafes to beg, steal and borrow sustenance].

I was conscious Mont Ventoux was coming and so wanted to get as much liquid for the guys as I could, but the cafe owner was pretty grumpy and ended up chasing us out with a knife.

When I found Tom and he asked what I’d got I told him I only had some lemonade and some brandy. I ditched the lemonade and went to throw the brandy away but he said, ‘No, give me that, my guts is feeling queer.’

Those were his exact words. He took a big swig of the brandy and then threw it over the hedge.

The Ventoux started about six or seven kilometres later.

When were you aware that something dreadful had happened?

I was climbing well and found myself working my way through the peloton.

Then, as I went round one of the final corners, I saw Tom lying there, set back off the road with the team car alongside.

As I went towards Tom, Alec Taylor [team manager] stood up and said, ‘Colin, get back, get back. Keep going, keep looking back. Tom’s OK, keep looking back [for him].’

So I kept looking back, thinking he would catch me and I would get him to the finish. But that didn’t happen.

I waited at the hotel and then Barry Hoban came in and said Tom had died.

This was my roommate, you know? I was in a state of shock.

There remains contention about whether it was Barry Hoban or Vin Denson who had been nominated to cross the line first the following day. Who was it?

Jean Stablinski was the patron of the peloton and said, ‘We don’t want to race, but in Tom’s memory we will ride the course.’

With 40km to go Barry jumped away. Stablinski asked Vin what was going on, and Vin said, ‘He’s gone for a [nature break], he’ll be back.’

It was only when he got to a minute we realised…

What happened afterwards?

When we settled down to discuss the day’s stage, Alec stood up and said to Barry that he was very disappointed Barry took that stage. He said that it wasn’t in the plan.

Barry said that he didn’t attack, that he just rode away… that he was convinced we were going to catch him going to the finish but when we didn’t, what was he to do?

But the fact is he got the acclaim for winning that Tour de France stage.

Speaking of acclaim, last year Geraint Thomas became the first Welshman to win the race. How do you reflect on that?

I’ve met the guy and I know he is a class act. I have every respect for Geraint, but I don’t like the Team Sky ethos, where they buy the best and dominate because they have strength throughout the team.

They have the best vehicles, the best soigneurs, the best mechanics, the best everything. I dislike Team Sky because of that.

Training must have been a bit different in your day

I once rode a 50-mile time-trial near London, and as part of my training regime I decided to ride home to Devon.

Eventually I got to Frome in Somerset. There was a sweet shop at the top of a cobbled hill. I was suffering like a dog so I went in and asked the lady for three Mars bars and a Crunchie.

I said, ‘I’m riding to Torquay, how much further is it?’

She gets her husband, ‘This guy’s riding to Torquay!’

‘Never!’ he goes. ‘It’s 90-odd miles!’ He looked at me like there was something wrong with me.

Every time I see Frome on a map, I think of them in that sweet shop.

Colin Lewis

Age: 76
Nationality: British
Honours:National Road Race Championships: 1st, 1967, 1968
250 race victories including 38 as a professional

We tried legal doping, and this is what happened

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Peter Stuart
16 Aug 2019

Cyclist learns the truth about the legal substances that offer more speed, and tests their benefits in the real world

Ketones, that’s the thing. Perhaps a ketogenic diet. They’re all on tramadol, salbutamol, fluticasone, codeine, caffeine. People say they use beetroot juice, nitrates in the water bottle, bicarbonate of soda before the race and there’s this protein gene – it costs £100 a shot and apparently it gives you a 10% boost. Everyone’s on it.

When it comes to discussions about what the pros use to enhance performance without risking a doping ban, there is a lot of speculation but very little fact.

The list of foods, supplements and chemicals that potentially offer a speed boost is huge, and the benefits uncertain, so Cyclist decided to get the truth from the experts and to test claims for ourselves.

That’s how I come to find myself surrounded by a small mountain of elixirs, pill packets and tubs of powder, with six weeks of testing ahead of me to see if any of these – entirely legal – products can turn me into a faster, stronger rider.

The grey area

My first task is to ensure that anything I take is safe and in no way considered dodgy by the doping authorities. It’s not always clear-cut.

Tennis star Maria Sharapova was sanctioned for the use of meldonium, a drug that had been legal to use in competition until it was banned at the beginning of 2016. It’s the epitome of the grey area between legal and illegal doping.

While meldonium is now illegal in competition, there are many other pharmaceutical products that remain legal in competition, but occupy a murky performance-enhancing middle ground.

In cycling, painkiller tramadol has been one of the most commonly discussed, apparently used by cyclists for pain reduction and performance gains. It is currently banned by pro teams who are part of the MPCC (Mouvement Pour Cyclisme Crédible). It doesn’t stop there, though.

Stimulants such as nicotine and caffeine are a constant focus of concern, and both are now on the WADA (World Anti-Doping Authority) Monitored Substance list – a halfway house to becoming banned, and with good reason.

Using prescription medicine has a risk of side-effects, and there often isn’t any real advantage. Let’s start with the painkillers.

‘Tramadol is an opiate like morphene and ketamine and those sorts of drugs,’ explains Dr Jarrad van Zuydam, doctor for Team Dimension Data.

‘It is weaker but has the psychotropic side-effects of those drugs: dizziness, light-headedness, concentration and it affects your reaction times. There’s no evidence to show that it makes you go faster.’

Painkillers on the whole, he says, have little benefit but a strong risk factor – even Ibuprofen can cause serious kidney damage if used in competition. I put that lot on my ‘no’ list.

Van Zuydam is just as disparaging about the other side of the spectrum – stimulants. This group includes psychoactive drugs that will temporarily increase mental and physical performance.

Amphetamines, cocaine and MDMA fall into this category, but so do legal substances such as caffeine and nicotine.

‘The stimulants are quite a nasty group,’ van Zuydam warns. ‘Even caffeine in high doses can be quite toxic, potentially setting off heart arrhythmias.’

While regular coffee drinkers may be shocked at the suggestion that caffeine is a big risk, it should be remembered the athletes tend to take it in pill form, and in large doses.

As such, I decide that caffeine is worth a try, but determine to keep the doses small.

The list of dubious legal performance aids doesn’t end there, though. Other substances favoured by athletes include drugs that act as vasodilators (such as meldonium), increasing the flow of blood.

Closely related are the bronchodilators (salbutamol), which increase the flow of air. Then there are synthetic hormones (levothyroxine), which increase certain hormones for performance enhancing purposes.

These greyest of substances, while legal in the eyes of WADA, require a prescription in the UK, so I decide to leave these out of my tests.

But there are performance enhancers that are much less risky and more freely available.

Pills and powders

Supplements come in many forms and some can enhance performance. Dietary supplements, which are the most common, are used to top up trace elements that occur in a normal diet – magnesium, zinc or iron for instance.

For pro cyclists this is an important part of maintaining performance.

‘The UCI recommends and regulates that you do blood tests during the year. If for instance you are low on iron, which is important for your performance, you do a follow-up and you make sure the athletes go back to normal levels,’ explains Judith Haudum, nutritionist for BMC Racing.

After consultation, I put a magnesium supplement on my ‘yes’ list, as a deficiency would seriously hinder the effects of the rest of my cocktail of products.

A more interesting group of supplements are those that fall into the ‘ergogenic’ class and are aimed purely at enhancing performance.

‘There are two that spring to mind,’ says Matt Furber, senior scientist at GSK Human Performance Lab. ‘Creatine, which works on your phosphocreatine pathway to increase strength, power and the regeneration of that explosive power.

'Then you’ve got beta-alanine, which buffers lactate production. So they may increase your performance through greater regeneration or greater power.’

Both creatine and beta-alanine are naturally occurring in food, but in small quantities.

‘You hear people say, “We try to do it all through food.” I’ve heard Team Sky say that as well. But there’s no way you’re going to get 20g of creatine a day just through food,’ says Rob Child, performance biochemist at Team Katusha and Elite Sport Group (elitesportgroup.org).

‘To take these things in an efficacious dose, the quantity of meat needed would suppress the appetite so much you wouldn’t be able to eat the carbohydrates you need.’

With that in mind, it’s no surprise that both beta-alanine and creatine supplements are present in the pro peloton.

‘I would say maybe one-third of our riders use beta-alanine,’ says Haudum.

She’s far more disparaging about creatine, though: ‘Nobody [at BMC] uses creatine. When you look into the science and into the papers you can see that there’s not really much evidence for road cycling.

'If you go on the track then it would be a good supplement to use.’ 

Van Zuydam explains that it’s present but uncommon among his athletes at Dimension Data.

‘You use it for very specific reasons, perhaps if it’s in the pre-season where you’ve got a sprinter or a big guy who’s trying to put on a bit of muscle mass.

'During the season, creatine is probably not the best idea, as it just gives you extra weight, extra water and extra muscle mass.’

Other ergogenic supplements include HMB, an amino acid that prevents muscle protein breakdown, and L-carnitine, which reduces fatigue and helps convert fats into energy.

A hasty high

Ergogenic supplements are not a quick fix, and take some time to bring about real-world improvements. There are immediate boosters, though, of which bicarbonate of soda is the most unusual. 

Bicarbonate of soda increases the body’s levels of naturally occurring bicarbonate, which is an alkali chemical that fights the effects of lactic acid in the muscles. It is definitely not as risky as painkillers or stimulants, but it does leave doctors concerned. 

‘Bicarb is one of those traditional ones, it’s been used by cyclists for a long time,’ says van Zuydam.

‘They use it for short efforts – prologues and time-trials – but increasingly the research is showing that it’s not all that beneficial. It also has some gastrointestinal side effects – diarrhoea, vomiting and things like that.’ 

Another supplement to naturally occurring chemicals are ketones, which have become the most sensationalised supplement in sport.

‘A ketone is another energy source,’ says Kieran Clarke, professor of physiological biochemistry at Oxford University, and inventor of the first ketone-based drink, DeltaG.

Clarke’s discovery has excited the cycling world a great deal, and rumours have spread that bottles of ketone drink have been sold for €2,000 (£1,500) each to pro cyclists. 

A ketone is normally metabolised by the body to create energy, and originates from fat.

‘It’s produced normally when you haven’t eaten or when you’re on a ketogenic diet,’ Clarke says.

‘The research was originally funded by the US army. They wanted somebody to invent a really efficient food and we said we could do that.’ 

The drink created by Clarke means that you can put ketones straight into your body that can be turned into energy.

‘It has similar effects to glucose and it works in the same way as glucose drinks, it provides energy for your muscles.’

Ketones certainly piqued our interest, but still await approval for sale in the UK. However, the hype seems somewhat unjustified.

Their inventor, Professor Kieran Clarke, sees no real advantages for the average athlete over glucose supplements and drinks. 

‘If you have glucose by itself or ketones by itself, it’s not superior. It’s exactly the same – it’s just providing energy. For sprints glucose is better actually, because you need something that’s anaerobic,’ she says. 

Rumours have circulated that athletes enjoy a 10% instant advantage at threshold pace when drinking a ketone ester, but when we put the claims to Clarke, she responds with restrained laughter: ‘No, I don’t think so! I think anyone who thinks that is having themselves on.’

Armed with some expert advice, I now have my final list of products to test. Making the cut is beta-alanine, creatine, HMB, magnesium and L-carnitine, all of which I will take over a six-week period.

For an occasional instant boost, I’ll try bicarbonate of soda and caffeine. Remember, I’m not a pro rider or a sports scientist, and this is no peer-reviewed journal.

I can only take the products, do the tests and tell you what effects I find. So here goes…

The programme

I follow a schedule suggested by Katusha’s Rob Child that’s designed to load certain elements such as creatine, but build up more slowly with others such as beta-alanine. 

My first discovery is that taking supplements is a chore. My programme includes four beta-alanine tablets, 20g of creatine in four doses (reducing to 5g after the loading period), three HMB tablets, 400mg of magnesium and an L-carnitine tablet.

That’s 14 supplement doses each day. It’s the sort of medical schedule usually reserved for the very ill or very old.

From the outset, there are effects, both good and bad. Beta-alanine is probably most noticeable. It creates a tingling in the skin, a type of pins and needles, which is technically called paraesthesia. It’s harmless, but unsettling.

The creatine leaves me feeling dehydrated and I frequently wake up in the night thirsty. The L-carnitine and magnesium are unnoticeable. The HMB has a strong taste, which means it is best taken with food. 

In terms of effects, the creatine kicks in quickly. Normally my weight is unwaveringly stable, but over my six weeks of creatine I put on half a kilo. My jeans feel tighter and my quads feel more powerful.

With my daily dose of magnesium I feel like I have more energy, more concentration and less fatigue, while the effects of beta-alanine and HMB are too subtle to tell. But I do think my speed of recovery is constantly increasing. 

When it comes to caffeine and bicarbonate of soda, I only need to take them once to feel the effects. Having experimented with caffeine before, and been a little unsettled by the impact on my nerves and heartbeat, I approach the dosage conservatively, siding for only 100mg – many athletes take as much as 500mg for competition.

It is enough to have me bouncing off the walls. The bicarbonate of soda, meanwhile, is truly foul. I can only compare it to drinking brine from a fish tank, with the scaly, fishy bits included.

For six weeks I put up with the inconvenience and occasional discomfort of filling my body with these legal performance enhancers.

The only question that remains is whether they have had any measurable effect on my abilities as a cyclist.


The data drop

During the course of the programme, I noticed only the subtlest of differences during my regular rides.

I was a little less fatigued after long distances. My short sprints were ever so slightly sharper. My long, threshold climbing efforts were much the same – my legs felt a little more powerful but also a little heavier.

They were also quick to fatigue but quick to recover. 

Going by sensation alone, I’d say the results were noticeable although minimal. Would the numbers from my tests in the lab agree?

Rob Child developed a ramp test for me, performed on a static bike, and monitored readings for heart rate, power and blood lactate. I did the test at the beginning of the six weeks and at regular points during the programme, and now I’m back to see if my final readings are any different to the first.

The test durations within the ramp test are 10 seconds, 30 seconds, one minute, five minutes and 20 minutes, and I’m forced to empty myself on the bike until I’m a crumpled mess in a pool of my own sweat.

Once it’s over and Child has had a chance to analyse the results, he tells me the extent of my transformation into a cycling superman. (Full results available to see here).

DurationBaseline (av. watts)Week 3Week 5*Week 6
10 seconds795750802886
30 seconds592608621686
1 min on/off/on502/441541/475526/466538/475
5 minutes372370378376
20 minutes323325**313

*Caffeine and bicarb of soda used for this test 
**We skipped the 20-minute component of this test as we wanted to focus on shorter efforts

‘The 30-second power showed the most marked and consistent increase relative to baseline, increasing by 2.7% at week three, 4.8% at week five and 16% at week six,’ he says.

‘For this type of effort fatigue is caused by a drop in muscle ATP and the accumulation of metabolic acids, so this may reflect the dual effects of creatine and beta–alanine supplementation.

'The one-minute power tests also improved consistently by around 7.7% after three weeks, 5% at five weeks and 7% at six weeks.’

My five and 20-minute efforts are eerily similar to the initial test results. ‘The five and 20-minute tests place a bigger emphasis on oxygen uptake, transport and utilisation,’ Child says.

‘As creatine and beta-alanine have little if any effect on aerobic energy production they may have limited value for increasing performance for longer efforts.’

I’m happy to see my shorter efforts improve, but I’m a little surprised not to see my wattage jump up by bigger margins.

Van Zuydam had speculated as much when he told me at the beginning of the programme, ‘My bet is that it’s not going to make much of a difference to your performance.

'Supplements have their place, but that place is only after you take care of the basics.’ 

With the test complete, I’m left with the choice of continuing with supplements or returning to life ‘paniagua’, without supplements.

While creatine did give me more power, it added weight I didn’t need, and had side-effects on my hydration I didn’t want.

Caffeine and bicarb also affected me in concerning ways, without big enough gains to compensate. Perhaps L-carnitine or HMB had an effect on recovery, but I’ll see if I miss them before returning to my box of pills. 

From my own experiences, anecdotes from other riders and scientific journals, I believe beta-alanine is possibly cycling’s best legal performance enhancer, and I’ll continue to use it.

Magnesium, too, will stay in my armoury, simply because I feel better taking it than not. 

So can a cyclist dope legally? Of course, but there are risks and sacrifices to be made to do so, and only for the slightest of gains – certainly nothing to compare to the grand margins that illegal drugs would seem to offer.

I leave the experiment having strengthened some of the weakest facets of my form, but more aware than ever that no performance gains come for free.

Many thanks to Etixx (Magnesium, Carnitine and HMB) and PowerBar (Creatine and Beta-Alanine) for providing nutritional and ergogenic supplements, as well as Garmin and Wattbike for all power testing equipment.

Click through to page two to see the data

This article first appeared on Cyclist.co.uk in May 2016

Legal doping: The data

A detailed break-down of Cyclist’s legal doping investigation test data

Baseline test - 26.2.2016

Base lactate 1.6mml

Lactate at rest: 1.6mmol/L

Weight: 72.0 kgs

10 secondsAverageMax
Power795w1,001w
Heart rate127bpm137bpm
30 SecondsAverage
Power592w
Heartrate152bpm
Lactate9.5mmol/L
60 SecondsAverage
Power502w
Heartrate168bpm
Lactate8.1mmol/L
60 secondsAverage
Power441w
Heartrate174bpm
Lactate 12.9mmol/L
5 minutesAverage
Power372w
Heartrate168bpm
Lactate 14.6mmol/L
Lactate @50w10.2mmol/L
20 minutesAverage
Power323w
Heartrate166bpm
Lactate 19.5mmol/L
Lactate @50w10.2mmol/L

Test 2 – After 3 weeks 18.3.2016

Base lactate 1.5mml

Lactate at rest: 1.5mmol/L

Weight: 72.4kgs

10 secondsAverageMax
Power583w909w
Heart rate90bpm109bpm
30 SecondsAverage
Power608w
Heartrate133bpm
Lactate8.1mmol/L
60 SecondsAverage
Power541w
Heartrate150bpm
Lactate9.0mmol/L
60 secondsAverage
Power475w
Heartrate161bpm
Lactate 14.4mmol/L
5 minutesAverage
Power370w
Heartrate169bpm
Lactate 14.6mmol/L
Lactate @50w10.2mmol/L
20 minutesAverage
Power325w
Heartrate173bpm
Lactate 16.5mmol/L

Test 3* with 150mg Caffeine and 15g of bicarbonate soda - After 5 weeks 7.4.2016

10 secondsAverageMax
Power802w933w
Heart rate136bpm1148bpm
30 SecondsAverage
Power621w
Heartrate160bpm
60 SecondsAverage
Power526w
Heartrate164bpm
60 secondsAverage
Power466w
Heartrate172bpm
5 minutesAverage
Power378w
Heartrate175bpm

*This test excluded lactate analysis or the 20-minute block, as it was intended to find the short-term effect of caffeine and bicarbonate soda

Test 4  - After 6 weeks 11.4.2016

Base lactate 2.0mml

Weight: 72.6kgs

10 secondsAverageMax
Power886w975ww
Heart rate131bpm144bpm
30 SecondsAverage
Power686w
Heartrate155bpm
Lactate9.4mmol/L
60 SecondsAverage
Power538w
Heartrate160bpm
Lactate11.4mmol/L
60 secondsAverage
Power475w
Heartrate173bpm
Lactate 15.3mmol/L
5 minutesAverage
Power374w
Heartrate176bpm
Lactate 14.6mmol/L
Lactate @50wTest error
20 minutesAverage
Power313w
Heartrate179bpm
Lactate 11mmol/L
Lactate @50wN/A

Analysis

Rob Child, performance biochemist for Team Katusha and Elite Sports Group (elitesportgroup.org)

The test

The most popular lab tests for cyclists are VO2 max and lactate threshold, which involve the rider progressively increasing power output to reach threshold, or exhaustion.

Such progressive changes in workload rarely (if ever) occur in racing, where riders typically make supra maximal efforts of varying durations and also undertake sustained efforts above anaerobic threshold. To reflect this, a range of exercise durations was chosen for the tests.

These typifying the type of efforts that would occur in a road race especially for key moves such as finishing sprints, breakaways and bridging gaps. Therefore the test battery provides a more useful insight into how these supplements might benefit real world cycling performance.  

The supplements

A range of supplements were chosen based on their ability to increase performance during high intensity exercise. These products were all screened for stimulants and steroids to ensure that any performance effects observed were not due to banned substances.

Creatine

This was loaded over 5 days, with a maintenance dose to maintain muscle creatine phosphate levels over the remainder of the study.

Creatine can improve high intensity exercise performance by maintaining muscle ATP levels, and thereby delaying the onset of fatigue. It can also increase the speed of recovery between maximal efforts by generating ATP more quickly.

Beta-alanine

This is taken up into the muscle and converted to carnosine, an acid buffer. Supplementation with beta-alanine over 6 weeks significantly increases muscle carnosine and is associated with improved performance when fatigue is caused by a fall in muscle ph i.e. accumulation of metabolic acids.

This can be a cause of fatigue in efforts lasting 30 seconds up to 20 minutes.

Results

The results were assessed relative to the baseline pre supplementation condition. The 10-second effort measures muscle activation and muscle mass.

The drop in power at weeks 3 and 5 probably reflects test variability and questions if the 5% increase in 10 second power at week 6 is real, or just variability in the data.

The 30-second power showed the most marked and consistent increase relative to baseline, increasing by 2.7% at week 3, 4.8% at week 5 and 16% at week 6.

For this type of effort fatigue is caused by at drop in muscle ATP and the accumulation of metabolic acids, so this may reflect the dual effects of creatine and beta–alanine supplementation.

The 1-minute power tests also improved consistently by around 7.7% after 3 weeks, 5% at 5 weeks and 7% at 6 weeks. Again the likely cause of fatigue is lowered muscle ATP and muscle acidosis.

Comparing the power output for the first and second 1-minute test on each lab visit allows the speed of muscle recovery to be assessed.

At each lab visit muscle power was around 13% lower for the second 1 minute compared to the first, suggesting that although the supplements may have increased power output they did not help the muscle recover more quickly.

For the 5 minute test improvements in power was 0% week 3, 1.6% at 5 weeks and 1% at 6 weeks, which are small and within the range of experimental error.

Similarly the performance drop of 3% for the 20-minute test may reflect experimental error. Unlike the 10-second, 30 second and 1 minute tests the 5 and 20-minute tests place a bigger emphasis on oxygen uptake, transport and utilization.

As creatine and beta-alanine have little if any effect on aerobic energy production they may have limited value for increasing performance for longer duration efforts.

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