The Etape du Tour, the annual amateur event that follows one of the key mountain stages of the Tour de France, lends us mortals a rare opportunity to make direct comparisons between the pros and ourselves.

Amateurs vs pros

Back in 2015 we looked at the Etape to see just how its riders compared to those in the pro peloton. The first rider across the line in the amateur sportive was France’s Jeremy Bescond in 4h52m44s.

Five days later Vincenzo Nibali took the spoils as the Tour passed through, covering the stage in 4h22m53s at an average speed of 31.5kmh – that’s 11% quicker.

Of course Nibali had the assistance of his team and other riders around him (although on this occasion no obvious use of the team car’s wing mirror), but on the flipside, Bescond was himself a pro rider until recently, as were a good chunk of the top 10 finishers in the Etape.

However, fifth overall in the Etape was France’s William Turnes in the 40-44 age category, and he’s likely to be the first real amateur to cross the line, finishing in 5h02m56s, 15% slower than Nibali.

The last place finisher on Stage 19 of the 2015 Tour de France was Katusha’s Jacopo Guarnieri, in 4h53m23s, 12% slower than Nibali and perilously close to being excluded by the stage time cut-off.

To put this into context, Guarnieri is a sprinter who was doubtless conserving energy for the final yards in Paris, and who already had over 3,000km of racing in his legs.

Yet he still managed to complete the course nearly 10 minutes ahead of the best-placed amateur rider who was no doubt giving everything he had for a single day.

The last male finisher at the Etape took 12h46m07s, nearly three times longer than Nibali, but perhaps a more representative measure of the average rider would be to take the half way point (the median) of the finishers.

That was the rider in 4,986th position, David Hall, who finished in 8h49m07s – 101% slower than Nibali.

By this account, we might say that pros are, on average, twice as good as the rest of us. But there are other ways of measuring ability…

Superhuman physiology

Completion times give a good indication of relative performance, but what about comparing our physiology with the pros?

VO2 max is a measure of the maximum amount of oxygen you can use each minute. Theoretically, the more oxygen you can use, the more energy you can generate to fuel muscles.

It’s measured in millilitres per kilogram of bodyweight per minute (ml/kg/min).

‘Your average sedentary office worker comes in with a VO2 max at the 30-40ml/kg/min mark,’ says Matthew Furber, senior sports scientist at the GSK Human Performance Lab in London.

‘Once you reach around 60, we’re talking category 3 riders, maybe category 2. Cat 1 riders are usually over 70 and beyond.’

So what about the pros?

Greg LeMond registered 92.5ml/kg/min, going some way to explaining how the American legend racked up three Tour de France titles.

Even more impressive is Norwegian cyclist Oskar Svendsen, who registered the highest-ever VO2 max across any sport in 2012 at 97.5ml/kg/min.

Some other famed names and their VO2 maxes: Lance Armstrong - 84, Miguel Indurain - 88, Thor Hushovd - 86.

If we consider our cat 3 rider with a VO2 max of 60 as ‘Mr Average’, the top pros (at around 80) have an advantage of 33% in oxygen processing terms.

But having a high VO2 max value alone is not enough to be a star rider.

WattBike creator and sports scientist Eddie Fletcher says, ‘What’s more important is how long you can sustain a high percentage of your VO2 max.’ Which brings us on to threshold.

A rider’s lactate threshold is the maximum steady-state riding intensity they can maintain without a significant build up of lactate.

In other words, it’s the tipping point beyond which your body will rapidly fatigue to exhaustion.

Professor Inigo San Millan compared the blood lactate figures of riders ranging from junior cyclists to amateurs to world-class.

The data revealed that at a power output equal to 3 watts per kilo (W/kg), amateurs produced 37.5% more lactate, but nudge the power up a bit to 3.5W/kg and suddenly the figure jumped to 62.5% more.

At 5.5W/kg (that’s kicking out 412W for a 75kg rider) the grimacing amateurs were producing 77% more lactate than the pros.

Power, power, power

Measuring physiological prowess in the lab is one thing, but when it comes to making comparisons out on the road, it’s all about power output.

Even more so since the media storm surrounding Chris Froome’s second Tour victory, which saw Team Sky release his power files to provide greater transparency about his performances.

Froome’s data reveals an average power output of 414W for 41m28s, equating to 5.78W/kg, with Froome weighing 67kg.

Team Sky’s head of athlete performance, Tim Kerrison, also revealed that Froome regularly exceeds a 30-minute power output of 419W (6.25W/kg) and for 60 minutes he would expect to ride at or above 366W (5.46W/kg).

Also in the spotlight at the time were statistics from Tom Dumoulin’s impressive Vuelta a Espana performances back in 2015.

Dutch Newspaper AD published an article revealing power statistics for key stages of that year’s race. Stage 6 showed Dumoulin rode an average of 508.2W over a climb lasting 5m55s, equating to 7.0W/kg.

Let’s give all these figures some context. Box Hill in Surrey is the most popular Strava segment on the planet, and to place in the top 10% of Strava times you will need a time ahead of Roki Read (who, at the time of original publication, sat around 4,800th place).

A decent club level, amateur cyclist, Read’s time of 7m09s at an average 310W equates to 4.19W/kg – that’s 60% of Dumoulin’s output over a similar duration.

If you fancy yourself as more of a sprinter than a climber, then German powerhouse André Greipel has been recorded to peak at more than 1,900W during a sprint and can hold an average in excess of 1,000W for 30 seconds.

The more aerodynamic Mark Cavendish has been said to hit around 1,600W in the charge to the line.

It sounds like a lot, and it is. Cyclist’s resident crit racer Peter Stuart (a former GB rower) hits a peak of 1,050W in the sprint (55% of Greipel) and can hold 600W for 30 seconds (60%).

So how much better are the pros? It depends on which metrics you use, but a competitive amateur is doing very well if they can get within 60% of the world’s best.

That last 40% may involve a considerable amount of marginal gains.

• For information on how the Wattbike Atom can help you achieve your training goals, visit wattbike.com/gb

Age is just a number. Unfortunately, unless you have managed to devise a time machine, that number is always creeping upwards. But does that mean you should change the way you train to stay in shape as you get older? And if so, to what degree?

Let’s establish that you are a high-mileage cyclist who is already super-fit by normal standards. Whatever your age, you should have nothing to worry about.

‘If someone asks me how to adjust their training as they get older I have a one-word answer: don’t,’ says ABBC senior coach Ian Goodhew.

‘Cyclists who have stayed fit through the decades and who have never been seriously ill or had a bad injury can be fitter in their fifties than non-cyclists are in their twenties.

‘Cycling defies age. “Age is just a number” is a cliché, but it’s true. If we’re talking about people who have never sat on a bike, though, it can be a different matter.’

Depending on your fitness levels, you may have to adapt your training and nutrition as the years creep by, but it’s not as simple as saying, ‘I’m in my forties now so I’m going to train like this.’

Everyone is different, and if you are already a well-oiled cycling machine you will enjoy health benefits as you age that others can only dream of.

Cycling won’t make you live forever, but it can help you defy the ageing process. Here’s how to approach your training…

How to train as you age: The decades

In your twenties

First, the bad news: you will probably have to work until you are 70 and you won’t enjoy the same low house prices and generous pensions your parents and grandparents did. But that’s about all there is for bad news.

Humans reach their physical peak between the ages of 20 and 35. That’s quite a broad age range, but even if you’re not very good at maths you will notice that it encompasses the whole of your twenties.

As well as being stronger, your body is more flexible, quicker to recover and less prone to injury. Look after it in your twenties and it will serve you well for decades.

‘Cycling is the number one endurance sport because, unlike running, it’s non-ballistic,’ says Goodhew.

‘Cyclists don’t get shin splints and are less prone to injury. You can’t apply standard medical thinking to cyclists who have stayed fit and healthy.’

The temptation can be simply to bang out the miles while you’re young and fit, but that may not work if you’re serious about competing.

‘It depends on what type of rider you are,’ says lead presenter at the Global Cycling Network and former pro Dan Lloyd.

‘If you have no ambitions to race or compete, I’d say to just go out and enjoy riding. Go hard when you feel like it, go easy if you don’t.

Structured training

‘However, if you want to compete, get good results and get the most out of your body, there is no substitute for structured training – if you “just ride” and “get the miles in”, you’ll never reach your full potential.

‘That becomes even more relevant if you find that you have less time to ride as you get older.’

Yet having a structured training plan isn’t only a good idea for racers. ‘You’re laying the foundations for the rest of your life,’ says Adam Carey, nutritionist and CEO of Corperformance.

‘In your twenties you feel as if you’re invincible, and that you don’t need to make plans for training or nutrition. That isn’t true. Your lean muscle mass is in its peak in your mid-twenties.

It can start to drift by 10-15% from the ages of 30-60, but if you ride regularly the rate of decline is not as great as if you do nothing.

After 60 lean muscle mass falls precipitously if you haven’t exercised. In your twenties you are preparing your body now for a long and healthy life, so you can still get out of a chair and lift a kettle when you’re 80.’

In your thirties

Given that you are – whether you like it or not – closer to middle age than you are to your teens, now is a good time to bust some myths and clear away some of the preconceptions you may have had about fitness.

‘The idea that your maximum pulse is 220 minus your age is wrong,’ says Goodhew. ‘And the Body Mass Index is very flawed.

‘To me they’re like astrology. The more cycling you do, the further away you move from standard medical norms.

‘I had to stop cycling for a while in my late thirties because I had a viral infection that knocked me out. When I went to the GP and told him I was riding an 80-mile road race and felt off-colour, he looked at me as if I was mad.

'He couldn’t grasp the concept at all.’

Lloyd agrees that, at this age, it’s not your body that’s likely to give up first. ‘I certainly think that the limiter to success when you reach your mid-to-late thirties, or even forties, is your head and your willingness to train and race with 100% commitment.

‘Cycling isn’t an easy sport, and if a slight lack of desire creeps in it makes it hard to get out, and stay out when the weather is bad.

‘Likewise, when you’re racing it’s a dangerous sport, and most people think more about the consequences of crashing at 60kmh when they’re that bit older.’ 

In your forties

Life begins at 40, so the saying goes, but your body might not agree. Once you reach this decade, people who don’t train or maintain physical activity will gain up to 10kg of body fat – and that weight gain is likely to continue into your dotage if you don’t do anything about it.

Studies have shown that anaerobic (or explosive) performance declines as we age – research in Australia, for example, found peak power fell by an average of 8.1% per decade while anaerobic capacity fell at an almost identical rate.

Don’t panic, though – peak aerobic power was found to barely change with age. What you shouldn’t do is simply accept that you are losing power and plod along.

‘If you’ve been riding for a long time – more than 10 years – intensity becomes even more important,’ says Lloyd. ‘For experienced riders, it’s rarely a case of not having enough endurance.

‘In fact you can often turn into a “diesel engine”. It’s way more important to keep the hard and fast training in regularly to maintain top-end power.

‘The story would be different, though, if you’ve just got into the sport in your forties and don’t have a long history in endurance sport.’

‘Fitness is such an individual thing,’ says Goodhew. ‘Someone who’s 35 and has never ridden will be very different to someone who’s 45 and has ridden their entire life.

‘Jens Voigt was still riding Grand Tours in his forties. Medical theory would say, “Don’t do it.” He’s an extreme example but actually there are lots of them.

‘If you go to a time-trial this weekend, 80-90% of the competitors will be over 30. League of Veteran Racing Cyclists [LVRC] races with ex-pros are not soft races, and there are guys in their fifties and sixties who are still incredibly fit.

‘Age-based training is great in theory, but cycling has proved it wrong.’

Your body composition is likely to be changing, however. ‘I train people aged 40 who do the same things as when they were 20 – a bit of sport, a few beers and a curry on a Friday night,’ says Carey.

‘But whereas when they were 20 they had broad shoulders and a small waist, now they have smaller shoulders and a bigger waist – and a bigger waist is the biggest danger to your health.’

‘I’ve definitely noticed increased difficulty keeping the weight off,’ says Andrew Soppitt, a  doctor now aged 50 who took up cycling aged 38 and has represented GB in age-group triathlons.

‘If it goes on it’s harder to lose. The problem is that if you diet you lose muscle, which can be self-defeating. You need to keep up protein intake, even if you reduce calorie consumption.’

Is reducing calories the answer? Carey says it’s not as simple as that. ‘Calorie reduction is often accompanied by the loss of lean body mass.

‘As you get older the motor burning your fuel gets smaller. You can reduce calories but you must also manage your glucose levels so you don’t turn into a fat-creating machine and eat adequate, but not excessive, protein.’

‘Everyone’s different, and the rate at which you lose lean body mass depends on many factors including your age, fitness, diet and genetic predisposition. The best advice here is to seek out a coach who can help devise a nutrition plan that will work for you.

In your fifties

You can defy ageing (to a point) by staying on your bike. The age-related decline in maximum heart rate is lower in athletes than their sedentary counterparts, and if you train regularly in your fifties you will continue to enjoy the same relative benefits as you would over layabouts when you’re in your twenties.

A slight decline in strength, endurance and recovery times can actually have a beneficial effect on your training. You’re more likely to think about your regime, rather than simply pedal for hours on end because you can, and take a more scientific approach.

‘If someone comes to me and asks me to draw up a training plan, my first question isn’t, “How old are you?”’ says Goodhew. ‘I ask how much you ride, and what’s your lifestyle like?

‘I ask about family and jobs, because how much time you have to devote to training is far more important than your age.’

The decline in strength, power and flexibility means it’s essential to add strength exercises into your training plan on days off the bike.

‘You’re not looking to become Arnold Schwarzenegger, but exercises such as pull-ups, leg squats and lunges – with dumbbells or a manageable barbell – can help delay muscle wastage.

‘Many cyclists have a relatively weak upper body,’ says Carey. ‘A lot of them avoid strength training because they don’t want to bulk up, and there’s an element of wisdom in that.

Get over yourself

‘But really, if you still think that at 40, you want to get over yourself. Half of your muscle mass is above the waist, so you can have strong legs at 60 but if you have no core strength you’ll have problems with your lower back, shoulders and arms. Training at 50 like you trained at 20 is unwise.’

That isn’t an excuse to take it easy, but rest and recovery does also become more important as you age.

‘I need more rest time and less frequent intense sessions. But the intense sessions need to be just as intense,’ says Soppitt.

‘If I’m not feeling right or have a niggle on a particular day I skip the session. I know from experience of gaps in training – sometimes months – that, on the back of years of aerobic fitness, it all comes back.

‘Interestingly there is evidence that about half of the population may be genetically programmed to respond well to training and the other half can train and train but don't improve much. I’m lucky and I respond to training.’

If you’re a competitive type, you’ll also need to consider what sort of race is best for you. Given what we have learned about aerobic fitness – that it can stay relatively stable while anaerobic fitness declines – you may be better off with longer distances.

It sounds counterintuitive, but you will be at less of a disadvantage than in shorter, more explosive events against young whippersnappers.

But ultimately, the big reasons we ride are for enjoyment and to be healthier. ‘When you’re 20, you should picture how you want to be at 30, 40 or 50,’ says Carey.

‘It’s like seeing a financial advisor. If you start putting away £10 a week when you’re 20 you’ll have a decent pot of cash by the time you’re 60.’

And it’s never too late to start saving.

Holding back the years

Here’s what you can expect from your body through the decades

20s

• Your body is at its peak in each of the 10 key facets of fitness: endurance, strength, flexibility, power, speed, coordination, agility, balance, body composition and anaerobic capacity. Enjoy it.

• Don’t use that as an excuse to ignore your body. Doing the groundwork now can help you keep fit in the future.

• If you’re serious about racing, ensure you train properly rather than simply riding for hours. Your body is best suited to high-intensity sessions, but relatively less well suited to extended aerobic training than it is when you’re older. 

30s

• If you train regularly, your metabolism still slows by 2-3% per decade from the age of 30 onwards (more if you don’t train). Counter this by reducing your calorie intake on rest days.

• Most people’s bodies will start to lose the fast-twitch muscle fibres necessary for explosive bursts of speed, but you can counter this by doing resistance training in the gym.

• Don’t neglect recovery. Although you are not as injury prone as older riders, you are not as bulletproof as you were in your twenties. Quality rest is as important as miles on the bike.

40s

• You could gain up to 10kg of body fat in your forties. Reduce your calorie intake if you notice weight staying on.

• Peak power and anaerobic capacity fall at around 8% per decade – but peak aerobic power stays steady, so you’re better suited to riding longer distances at a lower intensity than you are to shorter, high-intensity efforts.

In training, however, intense sessions are even more important. Just ensure you rest properly afterwards.

• Do strength training. Load-bearing exercises will help strengthen your core, back and legs, improve stability and delay muscle wastage.

50s

• Strength training becomes even more important. Include hills in a big gear as part of your riding as this is a simple way of doing it on the bike.

• Yoga and pilates can also help you to maintain balance and keep you supple, making you less prone to aches and pains.

• Don’t be afraid to use supplements: glucosamine supplements can help the knees, while fish oil supplements help joints and flexibility.

• Work on your technique. Increasing cadence (aim for above 80rpm) reduces the risk of injury and helps maintain the nervous system.

Age shall not wither them

Meet the oldest winners in cycling history

(Image: welloffside.com)

Firmin Lambot, Belgium

Oldest Tour de France winner

Belgian cyclist Lambot became – and remains – the oldest winner of the Tour when he took his second victory in 1922, aged 36 years and four months.

Although he had six stage wins to his name in previous races, he also became the first man to win the General Classification without taking a single victory in the race. 

Kristin Armstrong, USA

Oldest Olympic time-trial champion

Having beaten Emma Pooley to Olympic gold in 2008, Armstrong retired a year later and started a family – only to change her mind in 2011 with a view to defending her title at the London games. She did just that, 10 days before her 39th birthday.

Chris Horner, USA

Oldest Vuelta a Espana winner

There is hope for us all. In 2013, Horner became the oldest winner of a Grand Tour stage at the age of 41 years and 307 days.

Seven days later he broke his own record by winning stage 10 and reclaiming the red jersey, which he held for the next 13 days, all the way to Madrid. The victory also made him the oldest winner of any Grand Tour.

Take that, Lambot.

• For information on how the Wattbike Atom can help you achieve your training goals, visit wattbike.com/gb

Losing a Grand Tour by 39 seconds is a bitter pill to swallow. It is made even harder when you lose the race lead on the final stage.

Thankfully, 24-year-old Jai Hindley has a steady head upon his shoulders. Because while it was Tao Geoghegan Hart who took home the Giro d'Italia title, it was Team Sunweb's Hindley who came away knowing he is Australia's next Grand Tour big hope. 

The Cyclist Magazine Podcast sat down with Hindley for a long conversation around his Giro experience discussing everything from team leadership dynamics, struggling to put jackets on and coming within 15km of winning the Maglia Rosa.

We made the surprise revelation that Hindley is also half-Mancunian and chat about being the only boy at school who shaved his legs and wore lycra at the weekend.

For the full episode, listen below.

Alternatively, listen to us on Apple Podcasts here. Also remember to subscribe, share and review the Cyclist Magazine Podcast too.

Words: Joe Robinson Photography: Laura Fletcher

Cyclist: You surprised many by finishing second at this year’s Giro d’Italia, only losing the maglia rosa on the final day’s time-trial. Has it all sunk in yet?

Jai Hindley: Now the dust has settled, it’s mind-blowing! It really hit me when I started doing interviews – I had ABC and 7 News interview me, which is a big deal in Australia.

It’s pretty cool to get some mainstream media recognition because cycling isn’t the biggest sport at the best of times and the Giro was already contesting with the AFL grand final back home. If it had been a week later when the State of Origin rugby league was happening my result may as well have never happened!

Cyc: Team Sunweb sent you and eventual third-place Wilco Kelderman along as protected team leaders, but what were your personal expectations?

JH: I was nervous because I’d never ridden a Grand Tour as a protected leader and in my opinion I hadn’t done anything to warrant it. I’d trained the house down so I knew I had the form, but I was just hoping to scrape top 10. And then I’m rolling into Milan in pink on the last day. It was a big thing to process.

Cyc: A lot of people have since said your coming-of-age moment came when you won Stage 18, which featured the Stelvio. Did it feel like that for you?

JH: The night before the Stelvio I was struggling to sleep, I was so excited about what I could possibly do. I couldn’t stop thinking about it: uphill start, heaps of climbs all day and then a mountaintop finish. That’s my bread and butter.

Before it had begun I had already told myself I was winning that stage, but then we hit the Stelvio, all covered in snow, and I had a real goosebumps moment. There was just the lead car in front of me, two Ineos guys going full noise, time checks in my ears telling me about the massive names being spat. I knew it was epic bike racing when it was happening. It was pretty magical.

Cyc: While you won the stage, some may remember you for a comic moment where you couldn’t put your jacket on…

JH: Ah mate! So I gave that jacket to the soigneur to give to me at the summit but I’d put three or four gels in the left pocket, which weighed it down weirdly. I’d also put my gloves on before the jacket, which had tight sleeves, and I just couldn’t get it on! Everything that could go wrong went wrong, all on live TV, and I’m thinking, ‘Shit, this is going to be embarrassing, I can feel the memes already.’

After the stage I got messages from my family saying that they lost years of their life watching that happen.

Cyc: Come the final stage time-trial in Milan you found yourself in the race lead, tied with Tao Geoghegan Hart. How did you deal with the pressure?

JH: I wasn’t nervous until I hit the start ramp, then it really sunk in that there were no more guys starting after me. I was the last guy. I’m never the last guy in a time-trial!

Part of my head was like, ‘I can win this.’ Then the other part was like, ‘I just need to ride my own race.’ I knew the odds were stacked against me and I didn’t want bullshit from the team car. I wanted it said how it was on the radio.

It was agonising, riding those last kilometres knowing I wasn’t going to win. I was 15km away from winning the Giro. That’s rough. But some guys try their whole careers for what I achieved and never get it, and I got it in my third Grand Tour. I also got to roll through Milan head-to-toe in pink. That’s probably the coolest thing I’ve ever done on a bike.

Cyc: When Tom Dumoulin left last year questions were asked about the future of Team Sunweb, yet 12 months on and the team has been a revelation. What happened?

JH: To be honest I’m not surprised. I know Marc Hirschi is super-talented and Søren Kragh Andersen has been knocking on the door for a while. It’s just that it has all come at once. I think it also helps that the team has resources.

Some teams are potentially folding at the end of this year whereas we were able to take the men’s, women’s and development teams to Austria to train at altitude earlier this season.

Cyc: How does a guy from Perth, a city better known for Aussie rules football, get into bike racing?

JH: My dad is actually from Manchester and was an old racer. He taught me the history of the sport and I was riding road bikes by six and then racing at the velodrome a few years later.

All through school I wanted to be a bike racer, nothing else, but I was the only kid at school with shaved legs, rocking it in Lycra on the weekends, while my friends were playing rugby or Aussie rules.

People would call me an annoying cyclist and I copped a fair amount of shit but I couldn’t care less. Luckily in Perth there is an amazing ride scene. As kids Rob Power [Sunweb teammate] and I would do these bunch rides religiously, going full gas for 150km with adults every week.

Then aged 15 I actually went to France and watched Cadel Evans win in 2011. It was the first Tour I ever watched in person. I saw some mountain stages, rode in the mountains, raced in Belgium, it was so sick.

I remember the first mountain I ever rode was on that trip too, and it was the Col du Tourmalet. I love climbing and I couldn’t believe it, I could climb for over an hour! In Perth every climb is over in 10 minutes.

So me and these three other guys from Perth, we’d never hit a climb this big so we took the first 10 minutes full gas and then realised we still had 50 more to go. Man, I loved it instantly.

When it comes to climbing, most cyclists would admit to wishing they could reach summits a bit quicker. This is particularly the case during the hillier Spring Classics and the mountains of the Grand Tours. Having the correct gear ratios is a hugely important factor, but what exactly is the correct gear for climbing?

An increase in the range of gearing options on sale has left just as many cyclists in a land of confusion instead of pedalling toward paradise.

At a basic level, gears allow a rider to vary the effort required at the cranks to turn the rear wheel for a given speed.

If your biggest chainring has 52 teeth and you’re turning a 26-tooth cog at the rear, the ratio is 2:1 - meaning a complete pedal revolution turns the rear wheel twice.

The greater the difference between the size of front and rear gears, the harder it will be to push. 

Inseparably linked to choosing gear ratios is the concept of cadence i.e. how many revolutions per minute you turn the pedals.

Although varying between riders, in the region of 90-110rpm is considered ‘standard’. If you wanted to trundle along the flat at 24kph, you might select a 36x17 combination, allowing you to spin at a reasonable 90rpm.

In theory you might instead select a 52x12 ratio, which only requires a cadence of 45rpm.

Although you may think turning the pedals fewer times a minute for the same speed would be beneficial, this would be a difficult gear to ride at relatively low speed.

Spinners are winners?

When the road starts heading upwards, efficiency becomes the name of the game and asking too much from your legs up a climb is a certain route to failure.

Finding the right balance between your strength, fitness and gearing will ultimately garner the best results.

This is arguably where the biggest difference between professionals and the average rider can be found; WorldTour level riders can turn much bigger and harder gears at the same or sometimes higher cadence.

Stage 10 of the 2015 Tour de France ended with a 15.3km climb toward La Pierre-Saint-Martin, with an average gradient of 7.4%.

Chris Froome averaged just over 22kph for the 41 minutes and 28 seconds it took to reach the summit. Gearing consisted of 52/38 chainrings, and an 11-28 cassette, which he turned at an average cadence of 97rpm.

Using this information, and some complicated maths, we can estimate that Froome spent most of his time using a 38x21 gear ratio.

What then of an ‘average’ rider? Those not blessed with the Team Sky leader’s abilities might choose a compact chainset offering a 34 tooth inner ring.

How much further behind then would our mere mortal rider be by the time Froome had finished?

Using a compact chainset and the same 11-28 range cassette allows for ratios as low as 34x28, but for this comparison we’ll use the same cog selection at the back.

How far then could a rider spinning 34x21 expect to travel up the same climb?

Based on a cadence of 97rpm, after the same time it took Froome to finish, the compact rider would have only covered 13.6km of the 15.3km ascent.

Even the semi-compact rider on a 36x21 ratio would find themselves almost a full kilometre behind the yellow jersey winner.

The tale of the cog and sprocket 

Where you ride is perhaps the most important consideration to make when choosing gear ratios. If your local roads are pan-flat, there’s going to be little need for a 30-tooth rear sprocket.

Likewise if you commute over a mountain pass, you’ll want to skip over that 11-23 cassette in favour of something more forgiving.

The length of cage fitted to your rear derailleur dictates the largest useable rear cog, and although this varies between manufacturer and groupset, most standard derailleurs will accept a 28-tooth maximum, while long cage derailleurs will take cogs of around 32 teeth.

Cassettes are only one part of the drivetrain puzzle however, and matching them with an appropriately sized chainset can unlock your full riding potential.

Similarly if you are growing in strength it might be time to spec larger gears to your bike.

Ideally you shouldn’t be wearing through one chainring at a much quicker rate than the other, as this is a sign that your inner ring is too small or your big ring too big.

Although climbing is a unique skill in itself, selecting your gears doesn’t have to be any scarier than the rest of your riding. The gears at your disposal should be appropriate for your surroundings as well as your ability.

Attempting to push pro level gearing can be a recipe for disaster if your bike is writing cheques that your legs can’t cash.

If you want to look pro, copy their cadence instead of their drivetrains, as they tend to spin a gear that allows them to stay in their most efficient RPM range - as you should too.

This article first appeared on Cyclist.co.uk in October 2016

And just like that, the strangest cycling season in living memory was over. A season disrupted by a worldwide pandemic that we thought was never going to happen, did happen.

The hard work of race organisers and teams ensured that we battled on despite adversity, managing to rearrange the majority of our most beloved races while the riders held up their side of the bargain, ensuring we witnessed some of the most enthralling and dramatic racing moments in recent memory. 

Among both the men's and women's pelotons, a broad church of riders rose to the top, some that we had seen before, some breaking onto the scene for the very first time. It was a year that saw the continued invasion of cycling's young superstars and the sad demise of yesteryear's most beloved instigators.

Below, Cyclist has compiled its eight-rider team of 2020. Spoiler, there are some surprising omissions.

Cyclist's Team of the Year 2020

Primoz Roglic

Team: Jumbo-Visma
Number of wins: 12
Biggest win: Liege-Bastogne-Liege

The best rider in the men’s peloton this year. Forget what happened on the penultimate stage of the Tour de France– that was just a fairly sizeable blip – because beyond that Roglic rode almost the perfect year. A Grand Tour victory, a Monument, a 50% win rate in completed stage races and 12 victories overall.

Through this truncated 2020 season the Slovenian has confirmed what we have known for a while: he is the best stage racer in the peloton right now.

A one-man army fighting the wave of adolescent superstars currently sweeping through cycling, aged 31 Roglic is improving like a fine wine with every season and it feels that a Tour Maillot Jaune is within his grasp if he manages to banish any lingering demons.

As for the season, winning Liege-Bastogne-Liege was Roglic’s biggest victory this year. Nevermind defending his Vuelta title, it was pipping cocksure World Champion Julian Alaphilippe at the line that really impressed. It proved that not only can he race to win in the one-days but that he had also buried the nightmares from that Tour shock of just two weeks prior.

Wout van Aert

Team: Jumbo-Visma
Number of wins: 6
Biggest win: Milan-San Remo

We truly are on the precipice of cycling’s next great Classics rivalry, aren’t we? The mighty Mathieu van der Poel vs the remarkable Wout van Aert, bringing years of fighting in cyclocross over to the road, setting us up for another Boonen vs Cancellara-esque spectacle.

Van der Poel may have pipped Van Aert at the Tour of Flanders in October but it was the latter who won the war of 2020.

Benefiting from riding on a WorldTour team, Van Aert shined brightly when cycling returned in August, winning first Strade Bianche and then Milan-San Remo, his first career Monument but surely not his last, in fairly dominant fashion.

However, what was truly impressive with the Belgian was his versatility as he neglected personal ambitions at both the Criterium du Dauphine and Tour de France to become the exemplary domestique, putting in performances in the mountains that have stoked rumours of his own GC ambitions.

Oh, and even when he took on that domestique role at the Tour he still found time to take a couple of stages for himself too.

Anna van der Breggen

Team: Boels-Dolmans
Number of wins: 6
Biggest win: World Championships road race

Knowing that she has already set her retirement date for the end of 2021 has done very little to slow down Anna van der Breggen. In fact, it has actually seemed to reignite the rider of a few years previous. After all, Van der Breggen had found herself overshadowed by compatriot Annemiek van Vleuten in the past 18 months.

This year, Van der Breggen re-emerged into the light.

Granted, she was given a helping hand in winning the Giro d’Italia Femminile when Van Vleuten abandoned in the race lead with a fractured wrist. But there was no helping hand at the World Championships later that month.

Van der Breggen was simply the strongest rider in both the time-trial and road race, and was fully deserving of both rainbow jerseys. Her performance in the road race was quintessential Van der Breggen: uncompromising, dominant, ruthless.

But where she really excelled in 2020 was at the Tour of Flanders. She did not win the race but her tactical nous and race craft were what helped propel teammate Chantal van den Broek-Blaak to victory and we say that in this display of selflessness is where Van ber Breggen’s true champion title was confirmed this year.

Lizzie Deignan

Team: Trek-Segafredo
Number of wins: 3
Biggest win: La Course by the Tour de France

Incredible to think Lizzie Deignan won three of the biggest races in the women’s racing calendar and yet hardly a column inch was spared to her in the mainstream press to mark the fact.

I guess it is indicative of where women’s cycling still lingers and how far we have to go as Deignan’s exploits would have most likely been big news had she simply been a man.

After all, this is a woman who has come back from childbirth to return to the sport’s highest level and win its biggest one-day races and in remarkable fashion. The only two major one-day races eluding Deignan’s palmares were Liege and La Course. She now has both of them.

Her La Course win, outsprinting Marianne Vos and Van Vleuten among others, was smart while her Liege triumph was simply just strong.

It is also worth mentioning Deignan’s teammate Elisa Longo Borghini too. Unfortunate to miss out on this team but a real titan who proved selfless riding can always be worth its reward.

Marc Hirschi

Team: Team Sunweb
Number of wins: 2
Biggest win: Stage 12, Tour de France.

It was no secret that Marc Hirschi was going to be one of cycling’s next big talents but I do not think any of us could have predicted the season he ended up having.

Sure, plenty will tell you that they were singing the 22-year-old’s praises long before he even became Under-23 World Champion in 2018 but nobody envisaged him being the most entertaining rider at this year’s Tour de France and the most consistent rider in the Ardennes.

Second on the second stage of the Tour in Nice awoke us to Hirschi, while Stage 9's result of coming within a whisker of victory into Laruns after that solo raid had us sitting up in our chairs. The perfectly timed win on Stage 12 to Sarran was then the just reward.

Julian Alaphilippe

Team: Deceuninck-QuickStep
Number of wins: 3
Biggest win: Men’s World Championship road race

Technically, in terms of victories, this was Alaphilippe’s worst season since 2017. Just three wins throughout the year, a fifth of his 2019 haul, you could ask the question of what’s happening to the swashbuckling Frenchman.

Ask those questions, but you would be daft to do so as this year was a confirmatory one for the 28-year-old. Proof that he is cycling’s number one superstar. A man who regularly lights the touchpaper and reminds us why we love to watch bike racing.

Two occasions were testament to that. Firstly, his Stage 2 victory at the Tour. A textbook assault on the peloton on the Col des Quatre Chemins, he eventually crossed the line in floods of tears, dedicating victory to his recently-passed father Jo.

Then his victory at the World Championships. The strength to ride away from his competitors on the final climb, the guts to ride the final 11km alone, the guile not to get caught. It was a win that was unanimously respected across the peloton and one that was wholly deserved in every way.

Lizzie Banks

Team: Equipe Paula Ka
Number of wins: 1
Biggest win: Stage 4, Giro d’Italia Femminile

It was not the manner in which Banks continued her impressive progression through the women’s peloton with yet another Giro stage win and a hard-battled second at GP Plouay that impressed us, it was the way in which she dealt with the troubles and adversities of trying to make a living in women’s cycling that really made us take notice.

Out of the blue, her team Equipe Paula Ka folded in October. After having only taken the reins from Bigla-Katusha in April, the French fashion brand upped sticks as it became apparent the company was about to go bust.

Leaving a raft of riders and staff unemployed, Banks’s honest yet considered approach to proceedings saw her become the team’s mouthpiece, telling the truths behind the situation and the hardships being faced. Her character as a beacon within women’s cycling was confirmed during these unfortunate events and her contract with Ceratizit-WNT next season is fully deserved.

Arnaud Demare

Team: Groupama-FDJ
Number of wins: 14
Biggest win: Stage 4, Giro d’Italia

There was a time not too long ago when Arnaud Demare was considered a second-rate sprinter. A man unable to compete against the peloton’s quickest, yet to show the consistency to win day-after-day. His biggest victory, 2016 Milan-San Remo, also comes with its own question marks.

That all changed in 2020. Demare is now, pound-for-pound, professional cycling’s best sprinter. Four dominant stage wins at the Giro contributed to an impressive 14 victories through this shortened season, the most of any rider, all coming after racing’s return in August.

And what’s more, it’s not just Demare’s victories that have made us take notice but the manner in which he has taken them, like a kid overawed by the fact he gets to race his bike, let alone win on it.

Notable mentions for Tadej Pogacar, Richard Carapaz, Mathieu van der Poel, Hugh Carthy, Tao Geoghegan Hart, Filippo Ganna, Remco Evenepoel, Annemiek van Vleuten, Eliso Longo Borghini, Lisa Brennauer. All close but no cigars.

In the early evening of 18th July 1903, the remaining 21 riders of the inaugural Tour de France peloton left the Café Babonneau in Nantes.

They were bound for the finish line of the ‘grandest cycle race organised to date’, which lay 462km away in Ville-d’Avray, a western suburb of Paris.

‘It will definitely seem funny next week not to give more starts to the Tour de France,’ reported Georges Abran, who was responsible for sending the riders on their way. ‘Farewell the Tour de France,’ he concluded. ‘The final start is given. It is 8 o’clock sharp.’

That start time was one hour later than had been originally planned due to a fair tailwind and the organisers wanting to ensure the riders wouldn’t reach Paris too early.

As they started that sixth and final stage, France’s Maurice Garin was sat comfortably at the top of the general classification.

Garin had won the race’s opening leg from Paris to Lille, arriving at the finish before L’Auto’s chief reporter had alighted from his train, and then taken a second stage win on the race into Nantes.

By the final stage he was well over two and a half hours ahead of second-placed Lucien Pothier. All he had to do was remain upright and out of trouble and the first Tour de France was his.

As it turned out Garin did more than just stay out of trouble, because he would enjoy a terrific finale. He remained in great form and despatches from the stage’s control points that were printed the following day in L’Auto have him in the leading bunch or at the head of the race from start to finish.

In Chartres, 84km from Paris, he won a 25 francs prime put up by the local chamber of commerce to reward the first rider to enter the city.

Then, a little over three hours after securing that prize, and in front of a sizeable crowd that officials struggled to contain, Garin crossed the race’s final finish line alongside the temporarily renamed Restaurant du Père Auto in first place.

Having watched Garin open up his sprint one last time, L’Auto reported him as crossing the line at 14:09 precisely, some ten seconds ahead of Fernand Augereau and Julien ‘Samson’ Lootens.

It was Garin’s third stage win and confirmed him as the comfortable champion of the first Tour, his winning margin just shy of three hours over Pothier.

‘I had trouble on the road,’ Garin said afterwards, in case anyone thought it had been easy. ‘I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was sleepy, I suffered. I cried between Lyon and Marseilles.’

He recalled that the race had felt like ‘a long grey line, monotone’. For his efforts Garin won 6,125 francs from the organisers and a ‘magnificent object of art’ that was donated by the journal La Vie au Grand Air.

From Italy to France

The photograph shown here on the right was published on the front page of that same journal five days after Garin’s win.

‘The Tour de France, the grandest cycle race which has been organised to date, has just ended with the victory of Maurice Garin,’ ran the accompanying caption.

‘Our photograph was taken at the moment when Brillouet, the well-known masseur in sports circles, had just taken Garin to give him a shower and a well-earned massage. Next to Garin is his youngest son, a future road champion!’

After crossing the line in Ville d’Avray, Garin and the rest of the finishers had been taken to a garden by the offices of L’Auto to freshen up and enjoy a glass of champagne before riding to the Parc des Princes for the victory ceremonials.

Thousands of spectators lined the streets to watch the riders pass. Garin, for one, was unhappy with that arrangement, asking to make the journey by car instead – a request that was refused.

‘The thousands of spectators who crowded around the railings applauded with all their strength this undisputed king of the road,’ reported La Vie au Grand Air.

Garin’s win was celebrated and recorded as a homegrown success but Garin had actually been born in Arvier, a village in the Aosta valley of northwest Italy.

His father was a farm labourer, his mother a hotel worker. With nine children it was a large family and when Maurice was 14 years old they moved over the border into France. It wouldn’t be until 1901 that Garin adopted French nationality.

How and why the move to France came about is widely debated. Did they make the journey as a family, individually or in a bigger group? Did they use the Petit-St-Bernard pass, or a less well-known route, higher up the mountains?

Some claim that Maurice was exchanged for a wheel of cheese by his father, probably to a French recruiter of chimney sweeps, who then took the youngster to northern France.

Whatever the truth about how he got there, by 1892 Garin was in the French town of Maubeuge, close to the Belgian border, where he worked as a chimney sweep.

In 1894, despite having won his first race the previous year, he was denied entry to a race at Avesnes-sur-Helpe because of his non-professional status.

Garin waited for the start and then chased after the race, catching and passing every professional rider before the finish. When the organisers refused to pay any prize money the spectators had a whip-round. Garin went home that night with 300 francs in his pocket, double what the organisers were offering. He would soon turn professional.

Wins in Paris-Roubaix (1897/1898), Paris-Brest-Paris (1901) and Bordeaux-Paris (1902) followed, meaning that by the time of the first Tour Garin was one of the favourites for the win.

As it turned out his 1903 Tour victory would be the last recognised success of Garin’s cycling career. In 1904 he was hailed in Paris again as the winner of the Tour, only to be one of a number of riders subsequently disqualified for cheating and banned for two years, a verdict he dubbed a ‘flagrant injustice’.

Garin wouldn’t ride again until 1911, when he claimed 10th in Paris-Brest-Paris. By then he had opened a garage in Lens.

He would also go on to sell bicycles and for a while after the Second World War professionals such as Wim Van Est rode Garin-branded bikes.

He died in 1957, aged 85.

It’s possible a good number of people reading this don’t know what length cranks are fitted to their bike. Many might not even be aware that they come in different lengths.

Yet cranks affect how effectively we generate pedalling force, as well as our overall comfort on the bike, so shouldn’t we be paying more attention?

Let’s start with the basics. Cranks are measured from the centre of the pedal axle to the centre of the bottom bracket spindle. Lengths most often range from 160mm up to 185mm, in 2.5mm increments, and typically bigger bikes will come with longer cranks.

The problem is, the industry settled long ago upon the ‘right length’ crank for a given size of bike – for example, try finding a size 56cm without 172.5mm cranks attached.

Yet, thinks Phil Burt, we should consider challenging this status quo. And he should know, having spent 12 years as head of physiotherapy at British Cycling and five years as lead physio and consultant to Team Sky.

‘When I first met Bradley Wiggins he was riding 177.5mm length cranks, but for the Rio Olympics team pursuit he rode 165mm [Wiggins won gold]. He was on similar for his Hour record. That wasn’t by chance – it was planned – and if it can work for someone who has won the Tour de France, it might be worth you considering.

‘Crank length can influence a number of things. In a low, aero position the hip joint angle becomes very closed, which makes breathing harder; hip flexors become tighter and the hip extensors [glutes] spend longer waiting to engage.

'Shorter cranks help open up the hip at top dead centre of the pedal stroke so help alleviate these things, thereby making an aero position more efficient and sustainable.

'Shorter cranks also lessen the total kinematic loading of your knee joint – think how much easier it is jumping onto a 20cm high box versus a 1m high box. That’s crank length.’

Bikefitter Phil Cavell of London's Cyclefit agrees. ‘There are a number of reasons to change crank length, but hip range is the big one,’ Cavell says. ‘It’s especially important to be able to ride more effectively in an aero position.’

He’s unequivocal that many of us are riding cranks that are too long for our bodies to cope with and bike companies need to change their ways.

‘They’re stuck in the past,’ Cavell says. ‘A 54cm bike coming with a 172.5mm crank, when that could be ridden by someone who’s 5ft 6in, is just nuts.

‘We’re fitting 165mm cranks all the time now. I literally can’t remember the last time we fitted a 175mm crank. It’s an obsolete item for us.

‘Shorter cranks will almost certainly help most riders be more comfortable on a bike,’ he adds.

‘They help soften the impact of cycling on the body. Think about it: the equation is 2πr, so crank length changes that circle significantly, and going shorter appreciably reduces the range of joint movement.

‘We didn’t evolve around producing power with a flexed knee and a flexed hip. If you can do anything to open out the hip angle it’s most often a good thing.’

Faster, stronger

If we use shorter cranks won’t we be forfeiting leverage, and therefore losing power? Not according to Jim Martin, associate professor at the University of Utah in the United States.

‘Our tests revealed that extending the range a long way from the standard [170-175mm] has no substantial impact on power or efficiency,’ says Martin.

‘We tested right down to 120mm and up to 220mm. There was a substantial fall off [in maximal power] below 145mm, but we’re talking about cranks more than an inch shorter than most of us ride, and even then it was just a 4% drop.

‘You do have to take into account pedalling rate,’ he adds. ‘With a shorter crank you need a higher cadence, but that’s a small adaptation that happens very naturally for most.

‘As far as maximal sprint power and metabolic cost are concerned, crank length can be anywhere from 145mm to 195mm and it really doesn’t matter.

‘A longer crank is basically a lower gear ratio. It might allow you to climb better, but its effect is tiny compared to shifting up two sprockets on your cassette.

‘What is more important is the influence it has on the relationship between your thigh and your torso. This is about comfort, the basic feeling of your thigh coming up into your chest or stretching your muscles until they are like guitar strings, just to get over the top of the pedal stroke.’

Time for change

‘I would say at least half of your readers aren’t as aero as they could be because their cranks are too long,’ says Martin.

‘Anyone in the range from 5ft 8in to 5ft 10in won’t be able to get a horizontal body position with standard length [170-175mm] cranks. It will typically be worse for women, who are shorter on average, not to mention anyone a bit older, who will almost certainly have reduced range of movement in their hips.

‘Think about it like this: can you squat more weight from a deep squat or a shallow squat? Shallow, right? That’s a bit like using a shorter crank.

‘Plus, if you shorten your crank by 20mm, then you then need to raise your seat height by 20mm too, so that means your leg is now 40mm more extended at the top of the pedal stroke and your hip angle is much more open.’

Martin’s findings debunk the myth that long cranks produce more power, his conclusion being the individual rider is essentially free to choose. However, shorter cranks would bring a lot of positives.

‘I didn’t set out to discover “it doesn’t matter”,’ says Martin. ‘I wanted to discover the optimal, but as it turns out it just really doesn’t matter when it comes to power.

‘Shorter cranks certainly matter for riding aerodynamically, though, not to mention aiding mobility or joint pain issues and even ground clearance for pedals. I’d say in most cases, your cranks are probably too long.’

Burt makes a similar point.

‘The research evidence is clear: crank length makes no difference to power on the road – track is slightly different – unless you go as short as 80mm or as long as 320mm. And as a bike fitter and physiotherapist, I’ve never had a reason to go bigger.

'So if anything raised here resonates with you, try dropping your crank length by 5mm, but also remember, if you haven’t got any issues, leave well alone!’

Saddles are the width they are to reflect the average spacing between riders’ sit bones, but why are saddles the length they are?

‘Traditionally, road saddles have always been between 26cm and 28cm in length,’ says Specialized’s saddles product manager, Garrett Getter.

‘When we developed a new saddle back in 2015 we questioned why saddles had always been so long, and through testing we found there was no disadvantage to lopping off 3-4cm from the nose.’

The result – a 24cm long saddle dubbed the ‘Power’ – came in for criticism for its looks, being deemed worryingly close to a triathlon saddle.

Yet five years on, every major saddle brand now offers a short-nosed design, So what has persuaded even the biggest traditionalists to get on board?

Coming up short

‘The more movement you make on a saddle, the more energy you waste during your effort,’ says Federico Mele, marketing manager at Selle Italia. ‘Using the correct saddle will help you to not ride below your abilities.’

While this logic could be applied to all your kit, it is a recurring theme among the short-nosed saddle brigade, which Selle Italia joined ranks with when it released its Boost range last year, a moniker attached to shortened variants of its Flite and SLR saddles.

The thinking is that short-nosed saddles are more comfortable for a lot of riders, and comfort means speed.

Selle Italia SLR Boost Kit Carbonio Superflow • Price £284.99 • Weight 122g • Sizes 130mm or 148mm x 248mm • Contact zyrofisher.co.uk

‘All the feedback we received through testing showed that a shorter saddle allowed riders to hold a lower, and therefore quicker, position for longer because they were more comfortable,’ says Fabric’s program manager, Logan Argent.

‘This is because a shorter saddle allows your pelvis to roll forwards more, making getting lower easier.’

The body is not designed to have excessive weight on the soft tissue of the perineum, yet in rotating hips forward that’s exactly what is happening.

But isn’t this a problem the cut-outs and channels down the middle of saddles were supposed to solve? Well yes… in part.

Much like the short-nosed shape, Specialized was an early proponent of pressure-relieving channels in saddles, having developed its cut-out Body Geometry saddles in the late 1990s with help from ergonomics expert Dr Roger Minkow.

The good doctor’s CV boasted work in spinal injury and research into designing pilots’ chairs, so when he came across an article relating saddle shape to blood flow and erectile dysfunction, he started whittling away at a few saddles of his own.

The results were compelling enough to get the attention of Specialized, and it’s the bedrock of this research that pushed Getter and his team into experiments leading to the Power. The short-nosed aspect simply builds on the soft-tissue relief of the cut-out design.

Fabric Line-S Pro Flat • Price £149.99 • Weight 182g • Sizes (Unisex) 142mm or 155mm x 240mm • Contact fabric.cc

This is why the Fabric Line-S also features a channel down the middle, so too most short-nosed saddles from other brands.

However, Selle Italia’s Mele does say that ‘shortening the saddle will not relieve the pressure on your soft tissue directly – it just means it removes a part of the saddle that is not good to sit on, encouraging the rider to sit further back, on their sit bones.’

Then, in typical Italian-racer fashion, he adds that ‘an important characteristic of the “Superflow” central cut-out of the Boost is that it saves weight.’

The comment highlights a difference in design philosophies. Some manufacturers have taken existing designs and cut the nose off, while others have adapted or redesigned.

‘The Flite Boost has the same flat shape of the traditional Flite, only we chopped off 27mm from the nose,’ says Mele.

While Fabric’s Argent says, ‘We didn’t just cut the nose off our Scoop saddle – we tried but it felt weird – so we changed the shape of the rear of the saddle, concentrating on where if flares from narrow to wide.’

Saddle shape is ultimately subjective, so there is no right or wrong way to go about designing a saddle provided it ‘works’ for at least some of its intended audience.

However, there is at least one objective reason why short-nosed saddles are preferable for some riders. 

Specialized Women's S-Works Power Mimic • Price £230 • Weight 170g • Sizes 143mm or 155mm x 240mm • Contact specialized.com

The pros, the cons

Article 1.3.013 in the UCI rulebook stipulates the nose of a saddle must be no less than 5cm behind the centre line of the bottom bracket.

Exceptions can be made for rider morphology – if a rider is particularly short or tall – but even then a saddle must not overhang the centre of the BB. However, a saddle can be between 24cm and 30cm long.

It is therefore often mooted that short-nosed saddles are designed to circumvent this fore-aft position rule, specifically for riders who find that a saddle slammed as far forward as possible affords them the most aero position.

While this wasn’t the motivation for Specialized and Fabric, Mele over at Selle Italia does see this idea playing out at pro level.

‘This saddle position rule is enforced before every TT stage by the UCI officers, but not so thoroughly on a standard stage,’ he says.

‘So riders do protrude their saddles over their BB – it is a faster position. But with a longer saddle this is more obvious to an officer; with a shorter saddle it is easier to pass inspection.’

There you have it. While brands will never entirely agree, there is every chance shorter is faster, more comfortable or at the very least, in the words of Specialized’s Getter, ‘If you’re judging a saddle on looks alone, the only one missing out is you.’

What began as a university project kick-started the aero road bike market, and Cervélo is still trying to make riders quicker 25 years on

Words: Sam Challis Photography: Tapestry

Anyone with an interest in bikes knows that Cervélo was founded in 1995 by Phil White and Gérard Vroomen. However, the duo had been working together behind the scenes for many years before that.

‘Actually, “studying” is probably a more accurate way to describe what they were doing,’ says Sean McDermott, Cervélo’s director of projects. ‘Gérard was making a carbon frame as an engineering project at McGill University in Canada.

He crossed paths with Phil, a fellow student engineer who shared his interest in bikes, so he jumped into the project. They were both interested in TT bikes, but thought like engineers using data to inform design, rather than constraining themselves to what bikes were generally supposed to look like at the time.’

Evidence of this analytical approach is displayed in the brand’s name. Cervélo is a portmanteau of cervello, the Italian word for brain, and vélo, the French for bike. Looking at the industry at the time, the pair recognised they had an opportunity to disrupt a market that was still wedded to the status quo of round-tubed steel bikes.

‘This led to their first design, the Baracchi,’ says McDermott. The bike is well worth a Google. The acid-green paint scheme of the bike serves only to highlight its radical design, which had 1x gearing and eschewed a traditional bike frame’s double-triangle construction completely. It still looks futuristic today, bearing an unsurprising resemblance to Cervélo’s radical P5X time-trial bike. Back in 1995, the design was beyond comprehension.

‘It disrupted the industry too much,’ says Scott Roy, Cervélo’s engineering manager. ‘The pair took the idea to all of the traditional framebuilders in Italy, proposing it to them as the future of bike design. With the benefit of hindsight we now know they were totally right, but back then the Italians just carried on sipping their espressos and told Gérard and Phil to bugger off.’

Denied both acceptance and support, the pair decided to build the bike themselves, and Cervélo was born. 

Forging ahead

Before Vroomen and White’s rationale could be validated by results, the UCI introduced strict rules regarding frame design, making the Baracchi probably one of the most famous race bikes never to be ridden professionally.

‘It did cement in Phil and Gérard’s minds the approach Cervélo should take, though,’ says McDermott. ‘So they started making aluminium frames with airfoil shapes.’

Before long they produced the Eyre road bike, then the P2 TT bike followed, a UCI-legal spiritual successor to the Baracchi. It would go on to win many races, justifying the efficacy of the ideas that went into Cervélo’s bold first bike.

Wind-tunnel testing and computational fluid dynamics – design tools that are now standard in any contemporary road bike design – were still in their infancy at this point, viewed as obscure and unnecessary by most brands. Yet, says McDermott, White and Vroomen’s obsession with them set the tone for the future direction of all Cervélo’s bikes, right up to the present day.

Those weren’t the only working practices that set Cervélo apart. ‘I was around back then,’ says McDermott. ‘We were in these offices with high walls but no ceilings, like tall cubicles. Phil and Gérard were at opposite ends, so they’d just yell at each other about what was going on.

‘Phil would lead the design groups, identifying where the bikes could be better, and he was adamant we wouldn’t release a design until the original goals had been reached. Our top bikes, like the RCa, had no end date. It was very different to the regimented developmental cycle of other brands.’

It may have been different, but it was successful. In 2002 Cervélo released the Soloist Team, a road bike with a frame more reminiscent of a then-TT bike. That design essentially created the aero road genre.

‘The year after we became the supplier to the pro team CSC, who were ranked 14th in the world at the time,’ says McDermott. ‘Cervélo was easily the smallest and youngest bike company to ever supply a team at that level.’

Regardless, Team CSC rose up the rankings, becoming the top team in the world for three of the six years they were aboard Cervélos. Fabian Cancellara reigned supreme in the spring Classics, and in 2008 Carlos Sastre won the Tour de France aboard Cervélo’s SLC-SL and R3-SL bikes.

‘The trajectory of the brand accelerated steeply from then, so Phil and Gérard set up our own team, Cervélo TestTeam, in 2009 to continue the development,’ says McDermott. ‘It took things to another level. When Carlos won the Tour we’d all gone to the local pub to watch the final TT. It was awesome, but having a team the following year honestly felt like we were part of everything. Riders would come to visit and we’d tell them about the bikes and other cool stuff we were doing. It was very good for morale and product development. A massive challenge for the business overall but anyone who was here at that time would look back on it as a happy time I’m sure.’

While McDermott dismisses the suggestion that those good times came to an end, they certainly changed form considerably in the early 2010s. Global expansion put strain on every facet of the brand. In the space of a couple of years, Cervélo TestTeam morphed into Garmin-Cervélo, Vroomen left, and White sold to Pon Holdings, a Dutch company involved with several other bike brands such as Raleigh, Focus and Santa Cruz. White was Pon’s chief innovation officer until 2017, and then he too moved on.

McDermott says the departure of both founding members was felt keenly, but also allowed Cervélo to modernise. ‘Gérard’s was a very slow transition out – he remained as a consultant and visited frequently. Then when Phil left he tasked us with upholding Cervélo’s original tenets. We have a core of long-serving engineers, which is a huge source of pride for us, so those principles were hardwired into them anyway, but we had to develop a structure to work together more as a team. We became more professional and ended up in a stronger position.’

Constructive criticism

Being such a data-driven brand, Cervélo has always used rider feedback as part of its engineering process. However, some pro riders are more forthcoming than others.

‘Mark Cavendish was an arsehole,’ says Roy. The British sprinter rode Cervélo bikes at Team Dimension Data from 2016 to 2019. ‘It’s true, and he says he is too. But that was brilliant. He was never wowed by a shiny new bike, nor impressed by us being nice to him. He’d objectively analyse everything he used. The input he gave us is how we ended up with the stiffness-to-weight ratio of our current S5. He got on the previous generation, a really successful bike, and in no uncertain terms told us it was the worst bike he’d ridden for stiffness.’

Cavendish could drill down into exactly what was happening and when, Roy adds. ‘He’d say, “When I came out of this corner and did that, I felt it understeer because of this…”, in much the same way he can describe the final few kilometres of every sprint he’s ever been in. He was an engineer’s dream.’

Another rider who helped shape the design of Cervélo bikes was American time-triallist Dave Zabriskie. ‘He really subscribed to what we were trying to achieve. He has DNA in literally every bike we make because we scanned his body in 2007 and made a life-sized model of it, which we’ve put on top of every bike we’ve wind-tunnel tested since. So basically every bike we’ve made for the last 13 years has been completely optimised for Dave Zabriskie.’

These days, however, feedback from racers only goes so far. Maria Benson, Cervélo’s director of product management, says, ‘The maturity of road cycling means it’s getting harder from an engineering side to make the gains we were able to 10 years ago in aero, stiffness and weight reduction. Plus many other brands have caught up to our level in the areas we pioneered, because everyone has access to the same technology.’

The answer, according to Benson, has been to widen the remit of the bikes: ‘In our S5 we’ve taken a more holistic approach to what an aero bike is, making it more well-rounded as well as fast. We’re really trying to understand how a frame reacts to a rider. Are they comfortable? Do they fit properly? That’s where we now get the performance benefit. Fostering a sense of confidence and enjoyment in a race bike through design is more powerful than just pumping out “faster” frames. We haven’t lost Phil’s “engineering-first” approach, but we’re broadening our understanding of what needs to be engineered.’

The same scenario is being played out in other sectors. ‘From a silhouette standpoint, lightweight race bikes all look similar, and gains between brands are marginal,’ she adds. ‘It’s just the right way to make that type of bike.’

That isn’t purely down to the engineers. ‘Consumers have allowed the change of lightweight road bikes to happen,’ says Benson. ‘They’ve become better educated and bought into the shift because they understand that faster tube shapes and disc brakes are an overall gain in a bike traditionally designed to be lightweight.’

Down the road

Cervélo states that every bike it has ever made is fit to be raced at pro level, so the release of its new Áspero, the brand’s first bike that isn’t tarmac-oriented, should be examined with interest.

‘The gravel category is so broad,’ says Benson. ‘We noticed most designs lean towards the adventure side, with an upright position and mounts for bags, and that customer doesn’t really fit with the ethos of the bike we design. We also noticed there aren’t really many bikes out there meant for a competitive style of gravel riding, even though a lot of these events are highly competitive. There’s huge potential in this area. Naturally we jumped into the market there.’

Even away from the tarmac, Cervélo is focussed on speed. Could the company have a similarly disruptive effect in the gravel market as it has done in road bikes for all these years? Don’t bet against it.

Complete speed

Aero isn’t the whole story with the S5

‘We had a big head start in this space,’ says Maria Benson, Cervelo’s director of product management. ‘But today all major brands have figured out a way to make something fast. So we approached the S5 differently, making sure handling, ride quality and usability were just as polished as aerodynamics.’

The S5’s V-stem and external steerer are key features in that regard. They add stiffness to the front end and make cable routing simpler. They also improve aerodynamics of course – this S5 is a claimed 5.5 watts faster than the old one. 

Modern classic

The R5’s roots go back almost 20 years

Cervélo’s R-series has been winning pro races since 2003. This latest R5 Disc is the raciest version yet, with a longer and lower geometry than previous models.

The brand says frame stiffness is higher too, thanks to Cervélo’s famous ‘Squoval Max’ tube shaping. Benson says the tubes blend a mostly square profile with oval corners and curved sides, which generates a good balance between stiffness and aerodynamics at a light weight. Unusually, the disc frame weight is even lighter than its rim brake counterpart – a claimed 831g versus 850g. 

All-road racing

The Áspero is fast over any surface

The Áspero is Cervélo’s first move into the gravel sector and is one of the first gravel bikes built for racing rather than adventuring. What that means is an expansive tyre clearance – up to 42mm – but a lightweight frameset with no mounts for luggage or mudguards.

The Áspero uses a ‘Trail-mixer’ dropout, too. It changes the bike’s fork offset by 5mm depending on its orientation to keep handling consistent whatever tyre/wheel size combination is used.

Cyclist visited the 2020 Tour of Colombia early this year to discover why all eyes are now on this South American nation

Words: Rebecca Reza Photography: Jered Gruber

Perhaps it’s something in the water. Perhaps it’s the training roads that soar up high among the clouds. For decades the world has been mystified by how the escarabajos – the beetles – of Colombia can be so adept at scaling the most challenging climbs on the world stage, leaving their European competitors in their wake.

And in Colombia itself, the legendary exploits of cyclists from Martín ‘Cochise’ Rodriguez more than half a century ago to historic Tour winner Egan Bernal last July have built a passion for the bicycle among its people that can easily rival that of their counterparts along the cobbles of Belgium or the switchbacks of the Alps and Dolomites.

Driving up the winding road in the mountains above Bogotá, the nation’s capital, the sounds of cowbells and animated chatter of Spanish commentators on Colombian radio fill the air. Anxious fans have lined the roads for hours, like they have all week. They’re waiting for the riders of the peloton to arrive, while the policia try frantically to control their enthusiasm.

It is 16th February 2020, and we’re at the sixth and final stage of the Tour of Colombia. In just three years the race has captured the imagination of the nation, and people have travelled from all over Colombia and Latin America to see their idols in person.

Cycling is more than a sport in Colombia. It is engrained in the culture. Equally, the bike is not just a shiny specimen of the latest in industry technology. In Colombia, the bike represents opportunity; it is a means of transportation for many and it’s integrated into nearly every aspect of Colombian life. When it comes to struggling up a mountain on a bicycle, class distinctions mean nothing.

Joining the crowds

‘Colombian cycling has sabor – flavour,’ says William Laverde, one of the many fans that Cyclist meets beside the road on the finishing straight of Stage 6.

‘In football they dive, they fall for a penalty and roll around,’ he says dismissively. ‘Cycling is the bigger sport here. We have spent decades listening to the radio, following the races since we were kids, and we begin riding at four or five years of age. It is thanks to that culture that we have the best cyclists in the world.’

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Image 2 of 12

Over the past decade the sport has indeed grown to challenge football as the top sport in the country thanks to the rise of the current generation of stars, which includes Rigoberto Uran, Esteban Chaves, Nairo Quintana, Miguel Àngel Lopez and, of course, Bernal.

‘It’s a dream come true for Colombians,’ says Ernesto Luceno Barrero, the newly appointed Minister of Sports for Colombia. ‘Cycling is part of our lives. If you see Colombian scenery, most of the things we do involve riding on a bike.’

During the 1980s the country gained notoriety as the epicentre of the drug war in the Americas, led by the infamous Pablo Escobar and his Medellín drug cartel. Through smuggling and cocaine distribution he became one of the richest men in the world, but his actions in protecting his trade also turned Colombia into the murder capital of the world.

More than 20 years later the country continues to struggle with this stereotype, despite the violence having long since abated.

‘The people of cycling in Colombia, our idols, have shown to the world that we’re a different society to the one we’ve shown in the past,’ Barrero says. ‘Cycling is the most important sport in Colombia right now.

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Image 3 of 12

‘As Nairo, as Egan, as Rigo and all of our cyclists show the world, Colombia has talent, and we have now won the three biggest races in the world. In the future we are going to keep on supporting those youngsters, to show that peace can be made through sport.’

Watching the children racing their bikes up the hills and through the valleys around Bogotá, it is easy to imagine that there are many more Bernals and Quintanas in the pipeline. WorldTour team bosses and pro cycling agents are keenly aware of this, and many of them have joined the trek to South America in February, hoping to discover the next escarabajo star. Every professional team wants a Colombian rider. Ask the fans to choose their favourite, and the list covers every Colombian currently racing in Europe.

One important name missing from the line-up at today’s race, however, is ‘Nairoman’ himself. Having left Spanish team Movistar last year, Quintana now races for French Pro Continental squad Arkéa-Samsic, and as a result he was required to begin his season in France.

This region north of Bogotá is his home, however, and race organisers have been keen to point out that, despite not being present this time around, Quintana was instrumental in choosing the route for the 2020 edition.

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Image 6 of 12

Yesterday, while fans were gathering for the penultimate stage of the Tour of Colombia, they were also glued to their radios listening as ‘Nairoman’ went on a solo attack up the infamous Mont Ventoux at the Tour de Provence. He would go on to win the stage and keep the leader’s yellow jersey to the race finish the following day.

His exploits saw Colombia’s national papers give him top billing, even above the eventual winner at the Tour of Colombia, EF Education First Pro Cycling’s Sergio Higuita.

‘They are all a part of us,’ says James Castillo, another fan from Bogotá. ‘It’s very difficult to pick just one. Yesterday, Nairo won in France, he escaped and we were watching in our hotel. Nairo is one of our best representatives that we have in the world… but we love them all. All of them are our brothers, our family.’

Everyone wants a taste

‘Colombians are taking over cycling,’ says Tejay van Garderen at EF’s pre-race press conference. ‘I came to Colombia last year to train after the Tour of California. I was training with Rigo [Uran] and after that experience I told the team I had to come back and do this race. I had to soak in everything I could while I was in this country.’

In doing so Van Garderen echoed a trend that began several years ago, and one the Tour of Colombia has helped accelerate. Last season Chris Froome spent several weeks in the country before the 2019 Tour of Colombia, spending his time here doing altitude training. At the beginning of this year, three-time World Champion Peter Sagan flew over for his own block of training.

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Image 7 of 12

The warm weather and high altitude are obviously more appealing to many riders than training in Europe over the winter. And no doubt many of those riders are hoping that some of the Colombian magic will rub off on them. It isn’t just the high altitude or the length of the climbs that holds the secret to Colombian success – it’s the people and culture of the country itself.

‘I’m always really happy to be here in Colombia to race because of the atmosphere,’ says QuickStep’s Julian Alaphilippe before this year’s Tour. ‘I really love to be here. The race is always exciting. If I can, I want to continue starting my season here every year.’

For many of the sport’s big names, the Tour of Colombia’s place early in the year means they have only a few weeks of racing in their legs when they ride it, or are even just starting their annual campaigns. You would expect them to sit in the peloton and build up the miles for later in the season, but this race has a passion and an intensity to it that wouldn’t be out of place on a Grand Tour.

That is even more true for the Colombians. They’re here to win, and every day the stage leaderboard and general classification is loaded with Colombian names. The three editions of the Tour of Colombia have each been won by a different Colombian: Bernal in 2018, López in 2019 and Higuita this time around.

Heading for the heights

During the final climb to the finish on Alto Once de Verjón, the scene – like that intensity – could easily be straight out of a European summer. Giro d’Italia champion Richard Carapaz puts in a monstrous pull for his new teammate, Tour de France champion Bernal. They’re leading an 11-man breakaway that includes Uran, Higuita, Chaves, Dani Martinez, Sergio Henao and a host of other Colombians.

Once Carapaz has burned his final match with 3km to go, Bernal is left to battle it out against a four-man train from Education First, giving Higuita plenty of options for the finish. The EF men will finish one-two on the stage, with Martinez leading Higuita across the line.

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Image 8 of 12

The Colombian riders have held the advantage all week, with the race remaining mostly up at around 3,000m. Their efforts over the six stages have been their way of thanking the fans for all the support they have shown, whether in person or abroad throughout the European season.

‘It’s the most important and beautiful race of the year,’ says Bernal afterwards. ‘A race that Colombians are waiting for during the entire pre-season. It is a special opportunity to share it with the people of Colombia – our family and friends.

‘I always do my best to respect the race and respect my teammates who come over to help me get the best result possible, even if I’m not at 100%. It’s a beautiful thing for me to have won the first Tour of Colombia and now the Tour de France.

‘The Tour of Colombia is gaining a lot of points. It’s a beautiful race with good organisation, top teams and leaders arriving here with the intention of racing well. They have respect for all of the Colombians racing. It is something that is very important for us and something that we are very proud of.’

Hundreds of thousands of fans have lined the streets all week. In 2019 race organisers estimated seven million came out to see the race; 2020 is no different. Back on the side of the mountain high above Bogotá, William Laverde is still waving his Colombian flag.

‘We have mountains, we have valleys, we have respect in the streets, the traffic respects the distance given to cyclists, we know the sport,’ he says. ‘I will be a cycling fan until I die.’

Pictured above: Parietti Bunyola • 90% recycled polyester, 10% recycled elastane • €160 (approx £145) • parietti.cc

Velocio Harvest Ultralight • 84% recycled polyester • £117 • velocio.cc

Unfortunately it can be so easy to get caught up in the performance and style of cycling apparel that other, more important factors are forgotten about or ignored. How often do we consider the impact that the production of cycling kit has on the environment?

The inconvenient truth is that the apparel industry is one of the dirtiest industries of all. Making clothes requires huge amounts of energy, water and chemicals, whose detrimental effects are further compounded by the waste generated from the offcuts of new items and discarded old ones.

One mechanism companies have employed to try to help their environmental impact is external carbon offsetting – the familiar ‘X number of trees planted for Y number of jerseys sold’ construct.

However due to the type of materials used in cycling kit, clothing brands in the cycling industry are better placed than most to incorporate recycled fabrics and ‘greener’ working practices into their business, rather than merely offsetting externally. Several are doing just that.

‘Offsetting is a bit like buying yourself a clean conscience and not addressing the true problems,’ says Paul Skevington, founder of Parietti. ‘Our approach is to reduce environmental impact at source.

Based in Mallorca, we keep production local to the Mediterranean. Our fabrics are supplied by Spanish and Italian manufacturers. Our factory is based in Italy, which produces 175,000kW of clean energy every year through its own PV and solar panels.’

Velocio CEO Brad Sheean says that his brand adopts similar practices: ‘We don’t offset impact with external measures. That’s not to say we’re against it, but our focus has been to reduce impact from the beginning of our supply chain through reduced consumption, efficiencies and by building longevity into the products we make.’

Peter Velits, CEO of Isadore, says clothing brands need to constantly be looking for alternative materials and ways to make production methods more sustainable. Consequently the brand has deployed a number of ways to reduce its impact. It has an ‘Alternative’ range, which is made completely out of recycled materials.

It has a subscription service to rent jerseys, which aims to reduce waste. And it has and a ‘Patchwork’ line, which is made using leftover materials.

Velocio Harvest Ultralight • 84% recycled polyester • £117 • velocio.cc

Isadore Alternative • 87% recycled polyester, 13% recycled elastane • £125, isadore.com

Parietti too has some neat tricks aside from making its jerseys from 100% recycled fabrics: ‘Our current range is made from recycled performance fabrics, which use 40% less energy and 30% less water than non-recycled fabric, but on the delivery side as well, our garment bags are certified home-compostable,’ says Skevington.

‘Our mailing envelopes are made from limestone offcuts using only renewable energy with zero pollution. They are durable, waterproof, reusable and can be recycled, and will in time naturally disintegrate in sunlight.’

Like the others, Velocio’s Sheean says the brand uses as many recycled fabrics and components as it can across the brand’s entire range as a matter of course, and says extending the life of garments by maintaining quality can play a very important part in reducing environmental impact.

A new life

The beauty of cycling clothing such as jerseys is that much of it is made using polyester, whose recycled form is no different in performance to an original fabric of the same yarn gauge and knitting construction.

‘We’ve found this through our testing as well as the testing done in the mills we use,’ says Sheean. Unfortunately, though, there is a significant difference in cost. ‘Recycled fabrics are often 15-25% more expensive, primarily due to the added cost in recovering and processing the recyclables.’

To make the recycled fabrics these brands use, sea-bound rubbish and plastic bottles are collected, shredded and processed into pellets. Those pellets are then extruded into filaments and spun into yarn. While the cost might be higher, at least there is no shortage of ‘raw’ product to use. ‘The UK alone discards over five billion plastic bottles a year,’ says Parietti’s Skevington.

That fact is disappointingly unsurprising, but the consensus is that the increased cost of the material is the main reason working practices similar to those of Velocio, Parietti and Isadore aren’t more widespread among mainstream clothing brands. Yet there is cause to be hopeful for the future.

‘The variety of recycled materials is getting wider from season to season, meaning it is increasingly possible to make different types of kit, like bibshorts and jackets, from recycled materials. The performance properties are identical, if not better,’ says Isadore’s Velits. ‘I believe in future we will see a big shift into recycled materials. It has to happen.’

Skevington adds, ‘It isn’t an insurmountable task for any brand. There is no reason why, with a bit of effort, companies can’t commit to using more sustainable fabrics. They just need to make sure they assess every stage of the production process.’

‘The question should be asked to some of the larger brands that have more influence with mills and the development of recycled fabrics,’ says Sheean. ‘The analogy for why the industry is slow to change is related to turning a big ship. Well, that analogy goes both ways.

‘Big ships have a lot more inertia and influence too. If they want to do it they can, and the industry will be all the better for it.’

Ride in the footsteps of a nation-building king, just choose your bike wisely and hope for good weather: not even Alfred the Great would have headed out in that much rain

Words and photography: Jack Elton-Walters

Saturday 3rd October has been confirmed as the wettest day in the UK since records began in 1891. As Storm Alex brought in persistent rain for three days straight, with the wettest falling in the middle, most people would have seen the forecast and settled in for a day in front of the television.

But after weeks of planning, even longer spent waiting for an opportunity to stay away from home during the coronavirus pandemic and with the spectre of a new lockdown (which has subsequently become reality), there was little chance of us not undertaking the trip – as long as it could be done so in a Covid-secure manner.

Covering around 350km of very mixed-surface riding (more on that later), Cycling UK's new route nominally starts and finishes at King Alfred's statue in his capital city of Winchester.

Thanks to it being a loop, which we undertook in a clockwise direction, it's perfectly possible to start and finish wherever suits along the way and it was near to Petersfield that we chose to pick up the course.

I was joined on the ride by my dad, Nigel – keen to regularly tell everyone he meets along the way that he's in his sixties and undertaking a six-day touring trip, and my sister Arielle – who bought a new Vitus gravel bike especially for this adventure.

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Image 2 of 58

Route changes on the fly

Due to a combination of the bad weather and disparities between the abilities and experience of the three of us, it was at times necessary to move away from the tougher sections and instead tick off some of the distance on nearby tarmac roads.

Besides, some sections were simply unrideable. Sections of the South Downs Way, one of the existing routes linked up by Cycling UK into KAW, were chalk ravines with streams running down the middle and ice-like slippery surfaces on the sides.

Difficult just to walk up, they were treacherous for riding down. Each section that was undertaken as a hike-a-bike ran down the clock towards sunset and we finished the first day in the dark.

Regularly, particularly on the first two days – between Petersfield and Littleton, then Littleton and Market Lavington – full suspension mountain bikes would have been pushed to their limit, let alone laden gravel bikes.

In fact, Cycling UK's rather optimistic suggestion that a standard touring bike and its road tyres might cope with the route is a long way wide of the mark.

No doubt the yellow and amber rain warnings were the main contributing factors to our route deviations but even in the dry some parts of the route will be tough for many riders; there were sections of loose gravel, sand, dirt tracks that would be beyond the capabilities of a 28mm road tyre.

'The route is meant to be an inspiration for adventure, so I wouldn’t worry too much about the tarmac sections,' says Sam Jones at Cycling UK, when I admitted that we hadn't always stuck to the route.

'If you think about it, all our national trails had seasonal variations to them – it was just some committee who decided that say the South Downs Way should follow this trail precisely 40 odd years ago.

'It’s a way to get to places – not a prescriptive journey… though that being said, I’d definitely recommend giving our recommended way a go when the conditions are dry under wheel.'

It was some comfort to be told the tarmac deviations shouldn't be a cause for concern, especially as a background nagging feeling of incompletion still lingers weeks after the ride. Jones's idea to take on the route again in better conditions is one I am intent on next spring, weather and global pandemic permitting.

Planning the route without knowing how bad the weather would be, or how difficult some of the terrain, was an oversight, and to belligerently push on without account for the real-time conditions and situations would have been a mistake. The tarmac deviations were for the best at the time.

I've since seen an infomercial of the route on a popular cycling video channel and an article in The Guardian showing just how pleasant the areas the ride travels through can be with a bit of sunshine.

We've all been on a sunny bike ride, though, and this trip will live long in the memory thanks in no small part thanks to the difficulties presented by the weather.

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Image 11 of 58

Tough conditions, long lasting memories

No one can control the weather and it's with fondness that I look back on the ride. If my introduction sounds negative, its purpose was instead to paint the picture of three hardy riders taking on a challenging ride in even more challenging conditions. Despite those conditions, this was actually a fantastic and very enjoyable trip.

What's more, pedalling around for six days in early autumn sunshine would have been lovely but it wouldn't make half as good a story or live as long in the memory.

The basic yet luxurious santuary of an open barn during a historic downpour would never be experienced when the sun is shining, instead it would have been pedalled past without a second thought.

As it was, that barn proved to be a very welcome location to fix a puncture and also provide a location for Arielle to change into some dry kit (using my spare Rapha jersey and Gore-Tex jacket, kept dry in the Tailfin pannier).

Pushing on in saturated kit after sorting a puncture while exposed to the wind could have ended in hypothermia rather than a short pedal to the nearest pub for lunch, where an open fire near our table served to get everyone back to a comfortable temperature.

That pub, the Red Lion, was in Avebury which is surrounded by its famous neolithic stones. Despite the age and importance of the stones, it didn't stop main road being built through the middle. Nothing stands in the way of the motor vehicle.

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Image 6 of 58

Coaching inns

Pubs were a theme throughout the trip, or more specifically old coaching inns (or at the very least pubs that I called coaching inns). By far the best – from a generally good selection – was The Green Dragon in Market Lavington, where we stayed on the second night.

Almost right on the route, meaning very little variation was necessary to reach it, this pub was a welcome sight after a long day in the rain that ended with a windswept ride along the main road through Salisbury Plain.

The accommodation was a converted garage across the courtyard from the main pub building, and despite the wet and muddy state of riders and bikes the staff were happy for the bikes to be stored in the rooms overnight.

Further to that, a hose was provided to clean the bikes and there was talk of tools and a covered maintenance area being put in soon for future guests undertaking King Alfed's Way or other rides in the area.

The food and beer selection were very good, too.

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Image 22 of 58

A soggy six days well spent on King Alfred's Way

After several heatwaves throughout spring and summer, and nicer weather on the weekends either side of the trip, as it was we set off in torrential rain and around it stuck for three days. Even once the sun came out, the conditions under tyre made for a testing second half to the ride.

But despite the record rainfall, most of the ride was undertaken by three smiling riders. Route changes on the hop were no less picturesque than the 'official' route and one key diversion even took us along the Basingstoke Canal which was a standout highlight for all of us.

I'd recommend riding King Alfred's Way to anyone, just choose your bike wisely... and hope for good weather.

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Image 35 of 58

King Alfred's Way rider's ride: Mason Bokeh

The Mason Bokeh is a highly capable bike and went from companion to firm friend very early during my ride around King Alfred's Way.

Certainly, there were periods of hike-a-bike but that was more down to the combination of the route and October’s Storm Alex coming together to make whole sections of my multi-day adventure on the Mason Bokeh impassable for anything below a full suspension mountain bike, let alone a fully laden gravel bike.

But then I wouldn't want to be on a mountain bike for the tarmac sections – pre-plotted as well as unplanned – nor on the faster gravel sections.

A Mason Bokeh, or similar gravel bike, with 47mm tubeless tyres was probably as close to ideal as I was going to get.

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Image 46 of 58

It was those 47mm tubeless tyres that were capable of taking on most of what I pointed them at, from steep sandy climbs to root-rutted trails, and the bike can clip along at a fair pace on smooth tarmac too.

As the last of the daylight disappeared on the first day and with more than 10km between us and our overnight accommodation, sealant started to squirt out of the front tyre as it rotated. A large piece of flint had had wedged open a fissure that the sealant couldn't cope with.

Flint removed and the split moved to the underside of the tyre, it sealed and I was soon on my way. A tube change here on the side of a dark country lane would have given memories of the first day a completely different, and far more negative, complexion.

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Image 14 of 58

Luggage was taken care of by a Tailfin carbon rack with panniers and top rack bag. All very lightweight and for the most part waterproof, as was necessary in such riding conditions.

A newspaper I had in the bottom of the rack bag did come out soggy one evening, but after speaking to the brand it sounds like this was user error (I may not have closed a zip properly) rather than a product fault. With the panniers shrugging off all rain, road splash and mud, I am inclined to believe this was the case.

King Alfred's Way: How we did it

We started and finished our loop of King Alfred's Way near Petersfield in Hampshire, riding for six days and staying for five nights along the way.

Day 1

Start: Petersfield, Hampshire  
Finish: Littleton, near Winchester, Hampshire
Accommodation: The Running Horse

Day 2

Start: Littleton, near Winchester, Hampshire
Finish: Market Lavington, Wiltshire
Accommodation: The Green Dragon

Day 3

Start: Market Lavington, Wiltshire  
Finish: Woolstone, Oxfordshire  
Accommodation: The White Horse

Day 4

Start: Woolstone, Oxfordshire  
Finish: Heckfield, Hampshire
Accommodation: The New Inn

Day 5

Start: Heckfield, Hampshire  
Finish: Hindhead, Surrey  
Accommodation: The Devil's Punchbowl Hotel

Day 6

Start: Hindhead, Surrey  
Finish: Petersfield, Hampshire

For more information about King Alfred's Way and to plan your own adventure, see: cyclinguk.org/king-alfreds-way

Team Ineos’s road captain talks about his new contract, his podcast and why he looked in the mirror and saw only a support act

Words: James Witts Photography: Sean Hardy

Luke Rowe is not meant to be in the spotlight. As road captain for Team Ineos, his job is to control the race; to manipulate the outcome from the shadows so someone else can take the glory. But it doesn’t always go to plan.

On Stage 17 of the 2019 Tour de France, an otherwise uneventful stage became newsworthy when Rowe and Jumbo-Visma’s Tony Martin were disqualified from the Tour after Martin blocked Rowe at the bottom of an Alpine climb and Rowe responded by riding up beside the German and punching him – patting him, really – in the face.

‘It’s something I regret but people bash you in the peloton all the time,’ Rowe tells Cyclist as we settle down to talk in a hotel near Ghent at the end of February, in the days before what would have been the start of the 2020 Spring Classics season.

‘Most don’t know what’s it like riding in the peloton for 21 days. I put a lot of pressure on myself to do the best job I possibly can, to ensure my teammates are in the right position at the right time. That’s my priority. Ultimately, I’ll look back with fondness because the most important thing happened: the team won.’

Luke Rowe is the consummate team player; a super-domestique who has played a pivotal role in Sky and Ineos’s last five Tour de France victories and looks set to continue helping the team's cause at the very least up until the end of 2023 – Rowe recently signed a new four-year contract. In a sport whose sponsorship-heavy business model creates instability, Rowe will probably outlast some teams.

‘It’s a compliment but they know what they’re getting and I know what I’m getting,’ Rowe says, leaning back on a sofa just as the Bee Gees’ ‘How Deep Is Your Love’ begins over the speaker. Apposite timing. ‘It’s trust, it’s loyalty,’ he adds. So does that mean he has never contemplated a move away from the British team?

‘All of us, at some point or another, think about what it would be like to race for a different team, different nationalities, different cultures. And there was interest last season, which I found out about through my agent, Andrew McQuaid. Then the team found out… and extended my contract. We’ve signed up young guns like Egan [Bernal] on longer contracts. And now me. By the time the contract is up it will be 12 years with the same team.’

Rowe doesn’t reveal which team was interested in securing his services, so we hazard a guess and suggest QuickStep. Rowe laughs it off: ‘If they want a Classics superstar, they’re not going to sign me. Ultimately my true value as a rider is at the service of others.’

No wins, no problem

Cyclist last interviewed Rowe back in 2014 at his compact red brick new build in South Wales – ‘I don’t live there now’ – where he told us he had two dreams: to support a victorious Tour rider and win a Classic. The former is ticked off; the latter is seemingly no longer even a dream.

It once seemed possible. In 2015 he enjoyed what many saw as his breakthrough Classics campaign, finishing ninth in Omloop Het Nieuwsblad – behind winning teammate Ian Stannard – and eighth at Paris-Roubaix, ahead of the retiring Bradley Wiggins (18th). In 2016 he finished fifth at the Tour of Flanders. Since then, like his team, the Classics have become an increasingly distant target.

‘I’ve had mechanicals, crashes, punctures and generally we’ve underperformed as a group,’ Rowe admits. ‘We have many riders who can finish five to 15, but getting onto the podium has proved difficult. But we try, and I haven’t totally given up hope of winning. Look at Matty Hayman. He was a rider of similar size and surprised everyone by winning Roubaix [in 2016 at the age of 37].’

Arguably that’s Rowe indulging his romantic side. Normally he’s regarded as a pragmatist, a man who has graduated mentally from the juniors, where ego-boosting trophies and medals were commonplace, to winning only twice since 2012: Stage 1 of that year’s Tour of Britain and Stage 2 of Australia’s Herald Sun Tour in 2017.

‘Like all cyclists, prior to turning pro you win. As an under-23, as a junior, you win. I used to go balls to the wall in hilly races, bunch sprints… then when you turn professional it’s another level and you must raise your game.

'I thought I could win, then after a few years you look in the mirror and say, “Am I going to be a winner?” For me, the answer was no. So you ask, how can I make a career out of this? And the answer is to support others.’

That doesn’t mean Rowe is happy to accept a more subservient role. Instead he has taken on the mantle of road captain, making decisions for the team in the heat of the race.

‘I never thought, let’s be a leader – it’s just who I am. And let’s not mix it up with other sports like football, rugby or ice hockey where you have a captain and it’s a badge of honour. In cycling, it’s simply a name given to someone who can communicate and read a race.

‘You’re in the peloton and, of course, see things first-hand. You learn the traits, both physically and facially, of a rider if they’re having a bad day or not. You might have to switch the way the team is used in order to extract the most from them. Essentially I’m the middle man. Someone who can predict how the following kilometres will go.’

Rowe credits his strategic expertise from racing with ‘guys like Bernie [Eisel] and Mat [Hayman] when I stepped up to pro’. But ultimately, he says, the directeurs sportif are the ones who predominantly call the shots. ‘It’s why, after I’ve finished racing, I’d consider a role as a DS. To see if I can put my own twist on things and have a positive influence on a team.

‘At our team, we have some of the best in the world,’ he continues. ‘Some are the best at Classics, some are the best at Grand Tours. If they’re to switch roles, they might not be the best, and that highlights what a specific job a DS is. It’s all about knowing the roads, knowing how riders think over stages, and making calls. They’re the bosses. They say jump, you say, “How high?”’

Remembering Nico

Ineos’s palmarès suggests the team’s Grand Tour sporting directors know a thing or two more than their Classics contemporaries. Until recently, the GT setup included Frenchman Nico Portal. Tragically, the Tuesday after our interview in Belgium the 40-year-old died of a heart attack at his Andorran home.

Rowe had raced under Portal in all seven of the Grand Tours he’d started at the time of our conversation. In his podcast Watts Occurring (of which more shortly), Rowe recently recalled the influence Portal had on his career.

‘My first Grand Tour, the Vuelta in 2013, I stopped and didn’t finish. I was down in the dumps. Nico was in the second DS car that day, picked me up and put his arm around me. You often remember people in your bad times and he cheered me right up.’

Rowe also credits Portal with being a tactical genius, but away from the race was where his star shone brightest. ‘I idolised the way he was as a father. His kids would come to Paris [after the Tour]. We’d all get drunk, have a good time but he’d only have a few and be dancing into the early hours with his son or daughter. They were always his main priority. To me, that epitomises him as a person.’

Aside from Portal, another near-constant in Rowe's Grand Tour career has been Chris Froome. ‘Obviously one of the questions is, can Froomey make it back to where he was?’ says Rowe. ‘And I believe he can. What I’ve seen him do, all the work he’s put in, he’s an inspiration. He’s a pitbull. He’s polite, softly spoken, you could say his interviews are mundane, but behind closed doors he’s a hell of a character. He’s also a hell of a fighter.’

Rowe knows all about fighting back from injury. In 2017 he was white water rafting on his brother’s stag do in Prague when he jumped into the water.

‘It was too shallow,’ he recalls. ‘I bottomed out.’ More precisely, he shattered his lower leg, ankle and foot. ‘The hospital stopped counting at 25 breaks. But as Froomey has, I tried to stay positive. It was the hardest time of my career and at the back of my mind I’m thinking, will I make it back? But positivity often gets you through.’

Words and actions

Beyond the cut and thrust of the peloton, Rowe is keen to give something back to the sport that has given him so much. It’s why he and Thomas led a South Wales rideout just after Christmas with a group of local clubs including Maindy Flyers, the junior team that nurtured Thomas, Rowe and teammate Owain Doull’s fledgling careers.

‘I remember one of the kids was freezing on a descent, so I gave him my rain jacket. It was like a bin bag on him. He tried to give it back to me at the bottom but I said to keep it. I could see how much it meant to him. I went to watch the Tour as a kid. Someone threw a bottle, I picked it up and it went on my shelf for years. If you can give back to someone who has stood outside the bus or give them even 10 seconds, especially when it’s a kid, that can inspire.’

Rowe has also teamed up with Thomas to produce his podcast, Watts Occurring, which they started last July.

‘I listen to an ice hockey one called Spittin’ Chiclets. It’s awesome, so I said to G, “Let’s try it.” Our first one went out at the Tour. George [Solomon], our media guy, nipped to a shop, bought a mic and we took it from there. No editing – just rough and ready. If you like it, great; if not, f*** off,’ he laughs.

Cycling understandably comes under the spotlight – Ineos in particular, with CEO Fran Millar and owner Jim Ratcliffe recent interviewees. But they’ve also dabbled with rugby, interviewing Wales winger George North, and ice hockey pops up now and again.

Rowe is a huge fan of local team Cardiff Devils, who were top of the league before the coronavirus forced the Elite Ice Hockey League to cancel the season. They’ll be back, as will Rowe.

‘I’ve been going down there since I was a kid as my grandparents were fans. It’s great to remove yourself from the cycling bubble. I go with mates from school, and when I’m not at home I’ll live-stream it on their website. There are many players from the US, Canada and Scandinavia, but there’s an import cap or all 22 players would be from abroad. I tend to follow the GB players because they don’t move around as much. Joey Martin is the GOAT.’

Greatest Of All Time is a moniker that many would argue sums up Team Ineos too, although Rowe admits that it is getting harder to stay on top, and rates Jumbo-Visma as the biggest threat as and when the 2020 Tour happens.

‘At the end of the day, though, it doesn’t matter who we’re racing. Why we’ve been successful is that we focus on ourselves, we focus on what we can control and forget about the rest. We have a proven track record in that race. If we turn up and perform, we can win that race again.’

Whether it’s in 2020 or beyond remains to be seen.

Highs and Rowes

The best bits of Luke’s pro career and beyond

1990: Born on 10th March in Cardiff  
2009: After two years of promising form as a junior, Rowe claims the ZLM Tour Dutch U23 race, his first win  
2010: Another solid under-23 season is capped by victory at the Grand Prix Di Poggiana one-day race in Italy  
2011: Again wins the ZLM Tour, and places fifth in the Tour de Normandie stage race  
2012: Turns pro for Team Sky, and caps a solid year with a stage win at the Tour of Britain  
2013: No wins, but places ninth on GC at the Tour of Qatar – the third-placed young rider  
2014: After abandoning the race in 2013, claims his first Grand Tour finish at the Vuelta, although more than four hours down  
2015: His strongest spring season to date sees Rowe finish ninth at Omloop Het Nieuwsblad and eighth at Paris-Roubaix  
2016: Takes a career-best fifth at the Tour of Flanders, and a second straight Tour team win with Team Sky, and Chris Froome overall  
2017: Claims the only Classics podium of his career to date with third place at Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne  
2018: Part of the Tour-winning Team Sky lineup for a fourth straight year, helping fellow Welshman Geraint Thomas to individual success  
2019: Places sixth at Dwars Door Vlaanderen, but denied a fifth straight Tour finish after being disqualified for fighting on Stage 17  
2020: Offsets a disrupted race season by securing his Team Ineos future with a new four-year contract.

This artlcle was first published in the June 2020 issue of Cyclist magazine

Cyclist heads to Asturias for a ride that connects the lush forests of ‘Green Spain’ with the dry plains of the interior

Words: Sam Challis Photography: Juan Trujillo Andrades

‘Yes I know that ascent. It’s a pretty meaty one,’ says David, my ride partner for today, as we talk about the day’s route over breakfast. I think it ironic he has used that adjective, considering there’s very little meat on David himself.

That’s hardly a surprise. David is a guide for tour company Marmot Tours, which operates cycling holidays throughout Europe. Consequently he is the archetypal continental cyclist: lean-limbed and tanned.

He just looks light. Even his breakfast is light. Having ordered bacon and eggs on toast, I watch with increasing shame as instead of pouring milk on his muesli, like most normal people, he splashes orange juice over it, then tops his toast with olive oil (extra virgin, naturally) and chopped tomatoes in place of butter and jam.

Standing astride the top tube of his bike he looks like a slighter Fabian Cancellara. When we begin to pedal I can tell he’s eager to dance away, but I ensure that our pace remains suitably pedestrian, for today’s ride starts with the aforementioned meaty climb.

Into the clouds

The ascent in question is the Puerto de Ventana and it begins in San Martín at the top-right corner of our rectangular route, a tiny village nestled in the leafy centre of the Cantabrian Mountains in one of Asturias’s many nature parks, Las Ubiñas-La Mesa.

It is smack bang in the middle of ‘Green Spain’, a lush east-west band at the top of the country sandwiched between the Atlantic to the north and the Cantabrian Mountains to the south. Puerto de Ventana is one of the passes that breaches the mountain range, allowing access to central Spain.

Before arriving here I naively assumed that the area wouldn’t be too hilly – after all, it’s not the Alps. But a bit of research revealed that the Las Ubiñas-La Mesa park has its share of monstrous climbs.

These were the occasional training roads of former Olympic Road Race Champion Sammy Sánchez, who hails from the nearby city of Oviedo. What’s more, less than 30km away lurks the Alto de l’Angliru. Yes, that Alto de l’Angliru, the climb regarded by many as the toughest in professional cycling, with several ramps over 20%.

Discovering the Puerto de Ventana has that beast as its neighbour instilled in me more than a little trepidation as to what this climb would hold, but I find that intimidation largely misplaced – at least in the early stages.

It has been a regular feature in the Vuelta a España over the last 25 years, but the pros have always ridden it as a descent. It is unclear why, because the stats suggest it would make a nice climb. Its 20km length scales well over 1,000m vertically, but the lower half of that altitude is gained steadily, before steepening later.

Despite its proximity to the fearsome Angliru, in truth the Ventana strikes an ideal balance between being easy enough to ascend without going into the red, and hard enough to warm us up on a morning that has dawned misty and fresh.

All around, the Las Ubiñas-La Mesa park is dense and verdant. The slopes that flank the road are bursting with beech trees and smaller vegetation. Hamlets are tucked into the side of the mountains, seemingly barely able to hold nature back.

It lends the environment a tropical feel as the cloying smell of wet tarmac and forest fills our nostrils. While the air is not yet properly warm it is humid, and we already find ourselves coated in a film of fine moisture that turns our arm hair silver.

We pass through gorges that loom out of the mist, the appearance of their sheer rock walls sudden and imposing. They stretch up vertiginously, their summits shrouded by low clouds that look heavy with rain.

Being July, it might seem unusual for the Spanish weather to be so moody but this horizontal strip along the northern coast of Spain has a wet and cool maritime climate. It is in distinct contrast to the Mediterranean climate more commonly associated with the rest of the country.

We rise to meet the clouds. Even sounds are dampened – the clicking and chirping of the local wildlife recedes to leave only the sound of our increasingly laboured breathing.

The yellow central line in the road is all that demarcates a winding route into apparent nothingness for several kilometres. It’s all very ominous, not least because David chooses this moment to tell me brown bears are common in this part of Asturias.

The gradient of the road ramps up towards double figures and I feel the atmosphere of the ride change from jovial to serious as the task of ascending – and keeping a lookout for bears – takes ever more effort and attention.

We punch clear of the cloudline abruptly just before the top of the pass, and it acts as a pressure release valve. Glorious blue skies are revealed above for the first time today, and behind we can look out over the cloudline.

Mountain peaks protrude like islands from a lake, while the wider valley holds the cloud inescapably, like tightly cupped hands cradling water.

The direct translation of Puerto de Ventana is ‘Pass of the Window’, and while I’m not entirely confident in the translation’s accuracy, it certainly seems appropriate. The road now winds lazily downwards, and mountains either side frame a diorama that feels continents away from what we have just left behind, such is the disparity between the landscapes.

The top of the pass serves as the border between Asturias and Castilla y León, and it couldn’t have been clearer if the black dotted line demarcating the territories on the map was painted large across the ground.

The Cantabrian Mountains form a wall that blocks cooler, wetter weather from travelling over them and further south. Consequently we now enter a Continental landscape in the grip of midsummer.

This is more how I expect Spain to look. Gone is the green; the grass is now scorched to the colour of straw. The view is far more open, dotted with sprawling farms sitting in arable land instead of tight-knit communities beating back sloping forests.

The road is wide and traffic-free so we make good time on the rolling terrain, reaching the bottom right corner of our route quickly. A dog bounds alongside us a while, patrolling its land diligently before peeling off, its job done, and for the first time today I feel true sweat on my brow instead of clammy dew.

It’s said Spain is the most climatically diverse country in Europe and I’m not about to disagree – the temperature must have jumped at least 15°C in as many kilometres. 

Worlds apart

There are still mountains present but they are much less frequent and dramatic. They bulge lazily up between small settlements and fields with grasses burnt to a beige colour. The fields ripple in the breeze as we pedal along the base of an open valley. It feels a bit like riding in North Wales, with a dose of African savannah.

The barren nature of the region’s mountains offers some clues as to their geological composition. Some are sedimentary, with fantastic wavy striations like folded raspberry ripple ice cream.

Others have had a more turbulent formation, their layers broken into staccato sections like a giant geological Vienetta. I relay this to David, who questions why my metaphors are dessert-related. A telltale rumble in my stomach confirms it must be time for lunch.

We stop in a village called San Emiliano and David orders a spread of what he labels ‘fast food’. It has me expecting a wilted burger and cardboard-like chips, but happily the Spanish definition of the term is wildly different and far more nourishing than that.

What arrives turns out to be the best chorizo I’ve ever eaten, accompanied by fried homegrown potatoes, eggs from the chickens pecking around the garden next door and fresh salad. Afterwards, we feel suitably reinvigorated and ready to pedal once again.

It is my second rather dense meal of the day (probably featherweight David’s first of the week), but thankfully the road is largely flat until we reach the second corner of our rectangular route to begin the journey north, which also means I have plenty of open miles to burn it off.

We weave through and past a set of villages all with the ‘de Babia’ suffix. Babia denotes this area of Castilla y León but throughout Spain is also a colloquialism – if you’re in ‘babia’ you are ‘daydreaming’ or ‘happy with your lot’. Given the varied riding and beautiful conditions, I can confidently say I’m babia in Babia.

The road barely dips downwards at all for the next 15km but the gradient remains sociable for much of it, so David and I happily plod up towards the jagged wall of Cantabrian peaks looming ahead.

After a time we gain enough altitude to be able to see beyond the mountains’ shoulders to the voluminous clouds swirling and lurking just beyond the ridgeline as if held back by some magical meteorological forcefield.

Tipping into the descent and back over the border into Asturias is like plunging down the start ramp of a rollercoaster. Everything switches in an instant. Our speed quadruples, the landscape goes from calm pastures to stormy mountains and the open, idle road curls up on itself like a boa constrictor as it tries to navigate its way down the mountain range.

David points northward. ‘The valley winds up here directly from the coast some 50km away,’ he says. ‘I’d recommend putting on a gilet because there will be a chilly wind and we won’t be pedalling for a while.’

He’s right. Finally we get a descent as meaty as the day’s first climb. We’re heading into another one of Asturias’ nature parks, Somiedo.

This particular one is known for its multiple small lakes, whose appearance is so beautifully glass-like that they’ve been deemed natural monuments.

Somiedo is just as mountainous but far less forested than Las Ubiñas-La Mesa, and from some angles could be mistaken for the French Alps. Indeed this descent is the rival of any Alpine one.

It seems to go on forever, tightly coiled at the top with some precarious drops that have me hovering over my brake levers, before opening out as the altitude drops. It’s a joy – a technical challenge that transitions into a test of nerve near the bottom as we reach increasingly eye-watering speeds.

Even when we get to the valley floor the descent has more to give, tracking a gorge that finally peters out as we cross a bridge over the Somiedo river. It’s here that we turn 90 degrees right to begin the final stage of our route.

Squaring the rectangle

As I found out this morning, studious research of a route may introduce overly nervous anticipation, but the day’s final climb convinces me that information should always be preferred to ignorance.

Because the Cantabrian Mountains house so many notable climbs, the one that has just rather brutally introduced itself to us, the Puerto de San Lorenzo, flew under the radar of my internet searches. Consequently its initial 12% section from La Riera de Somiedo, which lasts for 3km, totally blindsides me. And things don’t get any easier from there.

To find its way up a seemingly sheer rock face, the road folds on itself again and again. Initially I welcome the hairpins – we cyclists are conditioned to appreciate hairpins, because they serve to break up an ascent into manageable chunks and the bends usually offer some respite in gradient.

But the architects of this climb can’t have read from the hairpin handbook before they laid this road. If anything the bends are steeper than the straights in between, making it feel as if the climb twists up the mountain like a corkscrew for much of its 10km length.

It’s a full-body effort to wrestle our bikes up the ascent – one that even David struggles with – but the gradient flattens as we get higher and eventually we are able to look up from our stems.

In the time that we’ve been climbing the environment has switched once again, back to the low cloud, humidity and jungle-like greenery of the Las Ubiñas-La Mesa park that our day started with.

It is incredible that such disparate landscapes can coexist in such close proximity. I for one am thankful for the biodiversity – not only is it visually arresting, it makes for a brilliantly varied day’s riding too. And the best bit? It’s downhill all the way home from here. 

Playing the angles

Follow Cyclist’s rectangular route in luscious Asturias

Keeping it local

Eat, drink and be merry in Asturias

Try the local dish…

Similar to French cassoulet, fabada asturiana is a flavoursome stew made with pork and beans. It’s a rich, dense dish so isn’t eaten frequently by the locals. For hungry cyclists, though, it’s a perfect dinner to refuel your muscles after a punishing climb or two.

Order the local tipple…

Sidra asturiana is cider with a twist. Sour crab apples give it its distinctive twang – the drink is light, musty and bitter but sweet enough to be refreshing after a day in the sun. The pour is just as curious as the drink – a bartender will raise the bottle high above his head and pour a thin stream into the glass held low with the other hand. Unless you want to spill more than you drink, it’s a technique best left to the professionals.

Dose up on culture…

The Cantabrian Mountains have historically isolated Asturias from the rest of Spain, and culturally the area has a Celtic influence. Architecture often features Celtic symbols and the folklore stars dragons and fairies. Asturias may be the only place in the world where you can play castanets as you dance to a bagpipe.

The rider’s ride

Sarto Asola Disc, £9,900, sartobikes.com

I first rode the Asola Disc back in the summer of 2018 and found it to be one of the first disc brake bikes that didn’t incur a penalty in weight or ride quality over rim brake designs. Many mainstream competitors have achieved similar feats since then, as disc brakes have become standard on road bikes, but the Asola Disc still manages to be special.

The bike’s tube-to-tube carbon construction produces a wonderfully smooth ride quality that is augmented by Pirelli’s 28mm Cinturato tubeless tyres. On the 20km descent from El Puerto I found plenty of grip on the technical section near the top, and then found that the bike handled unflappably on the high-speed lower slopes.

The bike’s 6.99kg weight, which even today is uncommonly light, was an advantage on the Puerto de Ventana and Puerto de San Lorenzo climbs, and Campagnolo’s excellent disc brakes were appreciated on the hair-raising descents down the other side of both passes. It might not be a first-choice race rig, but the Sarto Asola Disc’s balance of attributes make it an ideal partner for a Big Ride such as this.

Glutton for punishment?

If this route isn’t hard enough for you, here are some other brutes in the area

Alto de l’Angliru, 13.1km, 9.4%

The toughest climb in pro cycling – arguably – is in the next valley over. The first half of the ascent is easy, which makes the average gradient deceptive. The second half is uniformly in the high teens, with spikes of over 20%. It makes finding a rhythm (and a low enough gear) near impossible. An out-and-back route from San Martín would be around 120km – a perfect second day’s riding.

Alto de la Farrapona, 18.6km 5.6%

This pass isn’t as well known but is still a must-do, and it actually branches off Cyclist’s route from the heart of the Somiedo park.The gradient is gentle for 13km but the final 5km are well over 10%. Your reward is a view that’s up there with the best in Asturias.

How we did it

Travel

Cyclist flew into Oviedo with Vueling from London Gatwick. Expect to pay around £200 return plus £40 each way to travel with a bike (pre-lockdown prices). To travel to San Martín from the airport it is easiest to rent a car and drive the 50km south.

Accommodation

There are several small hotels in and around San Martín, but for this ride Cyclist stayed about 50km east in Langreo, in the spacious and modern Langrehotel and Spa. Staff were welcoming and relaxed – it’s no trouble to store a bike in your room. Cyclist was even lucky enough to get the chance to visit the spa, to aid post-ride recovery, of course. We can highly recommend it.

Thanks

Onofre Picquero from the Asturias Tourist Board deserves thanks for organising Cyclist’s stay at the Langrehotel in Langreo. For more information about the Asturias region, visit turismoasturias.es.

Huge thanks must also go to Sophie Baker and Helen Snell of Marmot Tours for the time and effort they put into organising the logistics of this trip. They freed up tour guides Katia Knight and David Sota from their busy summer schedules and played a huge part in making the trip as successful as it was.

Speaking of David and Katia – our thanks to both for their help on the ground during the trip. David was great company as a ride partner (and watching him eat breakfast was entertaining, too), while Katia displayed near-telepathic support car skills  in knowing exactly when to pull over and provide snacks during the ride.

Marmot Tours offers a dizzying range of cycling holidays throughout Europe, which are all fully supported. For more information visit marmot-tours.co.uk.

It may be only a fraction over 1km long, but the Mur de Huy in Belgium has crushed the will of many a cyclist – pro and amateur alike

Words: Henry Catchpole Photography: Alex Duffill

If you were writing a manual on how to win on the Mur de Huy at the end of La Flèche Wallonne – the Walloon Arrow – spring Classic, then you might well scribble down three general rules.

First, make sure you are among the leading 10 riders through the climb’s famous S-bend. Second, never make the first attack, be patient, hold your fire longer than you think. Third, be Alejandro Valverde or Anna van der Breggen.

I realise that this won’t be of much help to the non-pro hoping to tackle one of the most difficult climbs in Belgium (I fear deed poll won’t have any effect on your watts).

For mere mortals it is simply hard from the start, then it gets harder and after that you’re just hanging on to the point where even the flatter bit at the end feels like it’s mocking you.

It’s a climb that is so steep there really is no easy way up it. A long Alpine climb can often be tackled in a gear that allows you to spin and just take your time. The Mur de Huy is simply too steep for any gear to be easy.

For the love of God

Although the pros start climbing from the centre of Huy, the real test begins as you turn off the Place St Denis and onto the Chemin des Chapelles. The name of the road translates as the ‘way of the chapels’ and indeed there are six of them, ending with the church of Notre-Dame de la Sarte at the top.

Since the 17th century there has been a festival once every seven years (the last one was in 2019) during which a statue of the Virgin Mary is taken from the church down to the town, via the chapels, where it’s venerated for nine days.

Anyway, at the bottom of this 900m pilgrimage the quixotic gradient actually looks relatively mild, which makes the fact that it is at least 10% feel even tougher on the legs.

Some rather pretty houses line the sides of the narrow road, giving it a slightly claustrophobic feeling initially, like you’re starting an effort from which there is no escape.

The first chapel is on the outside of the first corner and looks more like a large white porch. Don’t worry if you miss it because all the others look the same. As long as you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.

Next there’s a small chicane, but don’t be fooled into thinking this is the famous S-bend – that lies another couple of hundred metres up the road and when you reach it you’ll be in no doubt. The tarmac rears up viciously as the cooling towers of the Tihange nuclear power station emerge over the houses behind you.

If you’re on the inside of the left-hander the gradient is over 25%, so it’s unlikely you’ll clock the monument to Belgian former pro Claude Criquielion as you wrestle with your handlebars.

Criquielion won Flèche Wallonne in 1985, the first year the race finished on the Mur. Riding for the triple-barrelled Hitachi-Splendor-Sunair team, his victory was made even more special by the fact that he not only won solo but was wearing the World Champion’s rainbow stripes.

After finishing third in 1986 and second in 1987, Criquielion won again in 1989, this time attacking and distancing breakaway compatriot Steven Rooks on the very corner where the monument to him now stands.

Champions of Huy

Chapel number three is on the outside of the next right-hander, which signals the start of a more arboreal portion of the climb. For a few brief metres the incline eases, but this only serves to exacerbate the rise of the road afterwards as it curves left past chapel number four.

This is the stretch where someone is always tempted to hit out in a bid for glory, but the winner will invariably keep their powder dry.

Between 2014 and 2017 in the men’s race, that winner was exclusively a certain Spaniard, while a particular Netherlander has won the last five women’s editions. This sort of dominance has led some to label La Flèche Wallonne as too predictable, perhaps even the weakest in the Ardennes’ week that begins with the Amstel Gold Race and ends with Liège-Bastogne-Liège.

Certainly the women’s race has seen several winning streaks, with Fabiana Luperini taking victory three times from 1998 (the first edition of La Flèche Wallonne Féminine) to 2002, Nicole Cooke winning three times between 2003 and 2006, Marianne Vos emerging victorious in five editions between 2007 and 2013, before Van der Breggen took on the baton in 2015.

Alejandro Valverde’s first win actually came in 2006, a whole eight years before his second. But then his has been an unusually long career (including a two-year absence from the sport that we won’t go into here).

Another Spaniard with a long career won on the Tour de France’s only stage finish up the Mur in 2015. Joaquim Rodríguez, pursued tenaciously by Chris Froome, went against convention and held on after attacking with about 300m to go.

Regardless of whether you’re racing or simply enjoying some recreation, those last few hundred metres must be some of the most interminable in cycling. The gradient remains constantly in the mid-teens and it seems to get longer between each white-painted Huy on the road, the three letter words looking like a staircase leading to the top.

At least if you’re only climbing it for fun you can enjoy the slight slackening of the incline as you pass the sixth chapel and head for the finish line. Yet if you’re racing or if you happen to be trying to beat the Strava KoM held by user ‘Bala 1’ (Valverde), this ‘easier’ last 100m brings its own torment.

It’s easy enough that you can change up a few gears if you’re chasing seconds, but you know to do so will sustain a pain that your legs and lungs could do without.

And then once you’ve crossed the line and rolled to a stop at the side of the road by the lime trees, you might just worry that the climb has taken as much of a mental toll as a physical one, because staring at you from over a hedge is a diplodocus.

The fact it’s standing in front of a ferris wheel doesn’t lend any more normality to the scene, but rest assured you’re simply looking at some of the taller attractions in an amusement park. If, like me, you start conflating the profile of the climb with the shape of the dinosaur’s long neck, it might be time to seek help.

To further perplex you and make you wonder if you have in fact battled up a mountain, there’s also a cable car station at the top of the climb. Sadly it was closed after an accident in 2012, but it rams home the point that while the Wall of Huy might be relatively short, it is also very sharp. An appropriate end to an arrow.

With the Spring Classics coming after the Tour, and the World Championships before the Giro, this year’s pro season has seen the race calendar ripped up and rearranged. But has it been for the best and is it time to shuffle the dates? Cyclist investigates

Words: Richard MooreIllustration: David Broadbent

Mark Cavendish was standing in the pouring rain in the car park of a leisure centre on the outskirts of the Flanders seaside town of De Panne when someone brushed against his left arm and he winced.

The last one-day Classic of the season, Driedaagse Brugge-De Panne, was still being raced, but Cavendish was one of many DNFs. In his case the failure to finish was understandable: he had crashed, hence his delicate left arm. ‘I was in the front echelon too,’ he lamented.

It was a wild day in mid-October, the rain hammering down and the wind so fierce that riders were literally being blown off the road.

Mathieu van der Poel, three days after winning the Tour of Flanders, was blown from the front echelon into a deep ditch, where he lay motionless. Eventually he emerged and climbed into a team car. Apart from his race being over, he was OK.

It looked miserable. Cavendish felt differently. ‘I absolutely loved it,’ he said. ‘Crosswinds, echelons – proper racing. Hard racing. I’ve loved this period, having these races at this time of year.’

He had done Gent-Wevelgem, Scheldeprijs, the Tour of Flanders and De Panne. ‘I think they should be at this time of the year every year.’

Spring loaded

Cavendish wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the Spring Classics in autumn. Yves Lampaert crossed the line in De Panne with a huge smile on his face, and not only because the Deceuninck-QuickStep rider had attacked the lead group to win alone.

‘I was born in this region, in West Flanders, so it’s my habitat,’ he said. ‘I really like the wind and the echelons and the way we raced today.’

As Cavendish discussed these races and their timing, his future was uncertain. The 30-time Tour de France stage winner does not have a team for 2021, but one certainty is that, despite the enthusiasm of some for change, the Spring Classics will revert to spring.

‘I love Mark’s comments,’ said Tomas Van Den Spiegel, chief executive of Flanders Classics, which organises most of the big Belgian races, including the Tour of Flanders.

‘But at the same time I think the connection between spring and the Flemish Classics is too strong and too historically important.’

Van Den Spiegel was speaking a few days after De Panne as the dust was settling on a hectic, redrawn and improvised 2020 season.

The races had been tightly packed and there were casualties – the Amstel Gold Race and Paris-Roubaix were both cancelled – but it had more or less run as planned, squeezed in just before a surge in coronavirus cases brought new restrictions throughout Europe.

For Flanders Classics, the Tour of Flanders was the big one. Its safe running was essential, according to ;Van Den Spiegel, not just to prevent a blank space where 2020 should have been, but for 2021 and perhaps beyond.

‘We were quite confident we would be able to organise the race,’ said Van Den Spiegel. ‘We had been building up to it with the authorities and stakeholders since May because we always knew there would be a possibility that we’d have to organise it without the public, or at least ask people to stay home.

‘We launched a communication campaign three weeks before the race to persuade people to watch it from home. I invested a lot of time and energy into that, but it was a long wait, especially that last week, to see if it would work.We really emphasised for weeks that this was kind of our final exam to protect spring 2021 as well.

‘We always say cycling is a religion here in Flanders. People understood and really lived up to the expectations. They really wanted to show that they care about cycling and they care about the Tour of Flanders especially.

‘The most difficult moment was when ASO cancelled Paris-Roubaix because that was going to be a week after us. That was stressful but we had to emphasise again that people should stay at home and that we would have a safe environment for everyone.’

The communication campaign was a success. The Tour of Flanders looked as close to being a behind-closed-doors bike race as was possible.

With most of the Classics and the three Grand Tours all crammed into a little more than two months, cycling can say it passed a critical test.

There were hiccups, but perhaps there are also lessons to be learned from shuffling the races so radically – necessity being the mother of invention, after all – and maybe even an opportunity to rethink the racing calendar permanently.

Time for a shake-up?

The biggest lesson, perhaps, is that cycling is more resilient than many seemed to think. When racing stopped in March there were dire forecasts about what the sport might look like when, or if, it restarted. Teams would go. Races would disappear.

There was a novel, strange rhythm to the redrawn season. The Italian Autumn Classics, including Il Lombardia, came before the Tour de France. The Tour came after just one month of racing. The World Championships came immediately after the Tour, with the Ardennes Classics following, then the Giro, the Vuelta and, overlapping with the two Grand Tours, the Classics.

There were clashes, of course, but arguably no more or no worse than every other year, with the common complaint that there is no logic or ‘narrative’ to the season. Ironically there was arguably a clearer narrative to this year’s improvised season.

If Cavendish’s suggestion that at least some of the Classics move to autumn is unlikely, what of potential moves for Strade Bianche, which kick-started the restructured season at the start of August, or Liège-Bastogne-Liège, which came a couple of weeks after the Tour?

Strade Bianche, run on the white dust roads of Tuscany, is a relatively new race that was first held in October before moving to early March. This year’s August edition was a success sportingly, with a superb winner in Wout van Aert, and aesthetically, with the white roads at their most televisual in the blinding August light.

The dust and heat were problematic, especially for riders who couldn’t easily get bottles from team cars, but perhaps an early or late summer date would be preferable to early March?

A more compelling argument can be made for moving the Ardennes Classics. Liège-Bastogne-Liège is La Doyenne, the oldest one-day Classic, and for a long time renowned as the toughest and most prestigious to win.

It was where the Grand Tour champions met Classics specialists: Ferdi Kubler, Jacques Anquetil, Rik van Looy, Eddy Merckx, Roger De Vlaeminck, Bernard Hinault and Sean Kelly are all former winners.

The trend in recent years, however, has been for those targeting the Grand Tours to stay away. In its late April slot Liège-Bastogne-Liège is too close to the Giro for riders trying to win the Italian tour, while for riders focusing on the Tour de France it tends to fall in the middle of a heavy training block or altitude camp.

Liège-Bastogne-Liège has undoubtedly suffered from their absence, but this year, when it was held two weeks after the Tour and a week after the World Championships, the lustre was restored to La Doyenne.

The leading quartet that escaped to contest the finish featured the calibre of riders who should always be fighting for victory at Liège-Bastogne-Liège: Tour winner Tadej Pogačar and runner-up Primož Roglič, Julian Alaphilippe in his first race as World Champion, and newly emerged star Marc Hirschi, fresh from winning Flèche-Wallonne and a stage at the Tour.

It was a gruelling and thrilling race with a barnstorming finish. Alaphilippe sprinted erratically, impeding Hirschi and Pogačar, then celebrated too early, throwing his arms in the air as Roglič sneaked under his armpit to win.

It was the first time Roglič, the best stage racer in the world in recent seasons and perfectly suited to this race, had even ridden Liège. And his was, in the circumstances, a popular victory.

Pogačar had snatched the Tour from under his nose; Alaphilippe’s hubris saw him relegated; Hirschi has it all to look forward to… it was fitting and appropriate that Roglič should sneak past them all to win.

This race, following on from the World Championships the previous weekend, offered the perfect riposte to those who complain about a lack of narrative. This year the story of the cycling season flowed seamlessly, and satisfyingly, from Paris to Imola to Liège, with the same characters fighting the same battles in races that actually meant something.

Rip it up and start again

Practically, it would make sense to arrange the season as follows: one-day semi-Classics in February and March; short stage races in April through to June; the Giro in May and the Tour in July; then the major one-day Classics.

Perhaps the five Monuments should follow the Tour de France on successive weekends, building up to the World Championships (with apologies to the Vuelta, which would suffer).

If we want the best stage racers going up against the best Classics riders in races that suit them both – and why wouldn’t we? – it would appear logical to have them after rather than before the Giro d’Italia and Tour de France.

Some will point out that the San Sebastian Classic, which also suits climbers and stage racers, already comes a week after the Tour and often fails to attract the stars. But would that change if San Sebastian was followed by Ardennes week to form a block of races that could pit Classics specialists against Grand Tour stars – and provide a meaningful postscript to, or revenge matches to follow, the Tour? Perhaps.

Such radical changes seem unlikely, at least for now. Van Den Spiegel didn’t get any time off once the racing was over because he was planning the new season, with the first major road event, Het Nieuwsblad, in late February – ‘just around the corner’ – with the first planning meeting in early November.

It’s fair to say that radical change is the last thing on the minds of race organisers. The priority is survival.

‘For next year we’ll have to be open to all types of scenarios again,’ says Van Den Spiegel, which could mean no fans and no VIP hospitality – and the loss of significant income.

‘It’s really tricky but for us the primary reason to exist is to organise cycling events, so we have to fall back on that for now and see how we can make the best of that,’ he says.

‘For us it’s also about our responsibility to the cycling world to keep the season going. It’s really important for the teams, the riders and the whole cycling community.

‘We’ll do that again in early spring and see how the whole pandemic situation evolves to be able to start adding on things again, and to try to make it a more viable product again.

‘I think cycling has shown itself to be very united. I think the teams and the governing body and race organisers have never been closer. It has accelerated other things on different levels, on a digital level and in virtual cycling, so there are some positives.

'We shortened our races and had very good racing, which was very attractive to watch. We were able to have all the good riders compete.

‘Never waste a good crisis, they say, but it is still a crisis,’ Van Den Spiegel adds. ‘The fact that we found different ways to put the races on and bring them to the fans means that we are confident that next spring we’ll be able to pull it off again.

'We’ll be able to offer at least a very good TV product. I think people will prefer to have the race on and stay home than not have the race at all.’

Amen to that.

Far from the madding crowds

Perhaps more than any other sport, cycling actually looked normal this year, despite restrictions on fans. This bodes well for the future of the sport

Of all the professional sports that managed to return in 2020, cycling was arguably the least compromised. There were fewer fans but this did not detract from the spectacle in the way that an empty stadium does at a football match. If the sport can cling on to any positives, this is one of them.

‘I think that interest globally has not decreased,’ says Van Den Spiegel of Flanders Classics, organiser of the Tour of Flanders. ‘I also think that broadcasters and distributors have realised that cycling is really a very good TV product that they have to keep investing in.

‘That was an important lesson, especially if you compare it to other sports. Football has a hard time making a good product without spectators.’

The Tour of Flanders, effectively held behind closed doors, was a success. ‘In a regular year we have a million people on the course at the Tour of Flanders, but the race this year was very attractive without spectators,’ says Van Den Spiegel.

‘Of course we are into the full picture and having the crowds, the hospitality and the festival type of atmosphere, and we’ll keep investing in that. But we were able to bring the race to cycling fans in a different manner and pull it off, which is very good news for next spring.’

Want the best cycling coverage in a format that you can absorb on the turbo, on the train or while sitting in the bath? There’s a ton of cycling podcasts covering everything from elite-level racing through to more diverse DIY cycling enterprises.

While some are great, others could perhaps use an edit. Luckily, we’ve rounded up seven of the most enjoyable so you can jump in with one of the best.

1. The Cyclist Magazine Podcast

Cyclist’s Joe Robinson and James Spender bring you a fortnightly dose of cycling culture from around the world, or under their duvets, depending on the current travel restrictions.

Episodes cover everything from poking around in Sir Bradley Wiggins's secret lock-up full of cycling memorabilia to catching up with up-and-coming racers like Australia's next Grand Tour hope, Jai Hindley.

Taking all the goodness of the world’s best cycling magazine and converting it into an easy to digest audio format, the boys invite those who race bikes, make bikes and love bikes to tell their stories. There’s also a bit of tech chat, news chat and the occasional anecdote regarding Masterchef's Greg Wallace.

If you want to listen and subscribe on Apple Podcasts, click here  
If you want to follow and listen on Spotify, click here

2. Cycling Podcast and Cycling Podcast Féminin

Co-hosted by Cyclist contributor Richard Moore, the longstanding Cycling Podcast provides knowledgeable debate and analysis on racing and wider cycling-themed topics. Slick and with less filler than most others, having chased after the peloton since 2013 their access is excellent, while the team’s presenting skills wouldn’t be out of place on Radio 4.

Taking the same in-depth approach to the women’s calendar, the Cycling Podcast Féminin is one of the few outlets covering the women’s racing scene with serious depth. Besides covering some of the biggest riders, both versions will appeal to those interested in backroom manoeuvring within the sport.

Topics range from expanding the women’s calendar to the finances of running a team, and other journalists, managers and officials often make for some of the most interesting guests. Despite this wealth of knowledge to call on, neither edition seems inclined to stretch its playing time beyond what the subject requires, making for a punchy listen.

Listen here

3. The Move with Lance Armstrong

Want my unsolicited opinion on Lance? Essentially, Lance is a man caught between a desire to be liked and an inability not to be a jerk. This means that although you probably shouldn’t open a restaurant with him, he’s still good company in short doses.

He also possesses an above-average working knowledge of the circus that is pro racing. During the racing season, his The Move podcast picks over each stage in fine detail. Plenty of Lance’s celebrity bros also pop by.

The Move also has a TED Talk-style sibling called The Forward, where Lance interviews celebrities, politicians and businesspeople. Both come under Lance’s mysteriously named WEDŪ media brand.

What’s WEDŪ? According to its website 'WEDŪ IS THE ANSWER TO A QUESTION. Who believes that the most meaningful revelations emerge at the far edge of your limits – that there are flashes of self-truth in moments of suffering? WEDŪ'.

We Do is also the anthem of the Stonecutters. Coincidence? It seems unlikely.

Listen here

4. Watts Occurring

Welsh lads and Team Ineos Grenadiers racers Geraint Thomas and Luke Rowe have their own podcast. Getting you inside of cycling’s richest team, the podcast follows the boys and their exploits throughout the season. Unsurprisingly their teammates make regular appearances, including Ian Stannard, whose chat following the announcement of his forced retirement is worth a listen.

For a team caricatured as lacking personality, Watts Occurring’s presenters are always good company, meaning the podcast should have appeal beyond fans of the squad. Probably not the one for those looking for trash-talking or cutting journalism, it’s still as close as most of us will get to loitering in David Brailsford's team bus.

Listen here

5. Wheel Suckers Podcast

A sideways look at DIY cycling culture from Jenni Gwiazdowski of DIY bike workshop London Bike Kitchen and Alex Davis from bicycle cafe Look mum no hands! Covering all aspects of cycling, rather than just elite racing, topics have included an introduction to grass-roots women’s racing, coverage of the TransContinental adventure race, interviews with disability cycling advocates Wheels for Wellbeing, and mental health.

There are also several mini-episodes on simple bike maintenance topics. Seemingly on a hiatus, there are still tons of episodes in the archives for you to dig into.

Listen here

6. Velocast

Now over 10 years in the game, Velocast is one of only a few radio-quality podcasts. Providing comment and analysis its team produces a weekly edition, plus daily coverage of major races including the Giro, Tour, Vuelta, Tour de Suisse, Criterium du Dauphiné and Giro di Lombardia, plus some of the major Classics.

Presented by John Galloway and Scott O’Raw the two rely on pretty much the same sources as the rest of us for their raw material, i.e. a Eurosport subscription.

Despite the show being mostly just the pair chatting about cycling, their knowledge of racing, plus the slick production make it an insightful listen. A good addition to anyone wanting to add a bit of depth to their understanding of the calendar, it’s a quality product.

And how does it manage this feat? By the outrageous method of making you pay for it. Currently, you can subscribe now for £5.99 per month.

Listen here

7. The Bike Show

First a radio show on London’s Resonance FM, and later also a podcast, The Bike Show offers a wonderfully eclectic take on cycling in all its forms. Presented by author and broadcaster Jack Thurston, it’s been rolling since 2004. Since then guests have included figures as diverse as the godfather of cycling Eddy Merckx, artist Gavin Turk and BMX multiple-time world champion Shanaze Reade.

With a distinctly cultural bent, don’t expect coverage of who’s done well at E3 Harelbeke. Do expect interviews conducted while riding, historical and artistic diversions, plus quality yet left-field production and presentation.

Listen here

Day Three of our ride from John O’Groats to Land’s End takes Cyclist up the toughest climb in Britain

Words Marcus Leach Photography Gavin Kaps/Osprey Imagery

The sound of rain beating a solemn rhythm on the motorhome roof greets me as I wake. I’m reluctant to leave the warmth of my bed but I know I have little choice in the matter.

It’s only Day Three of my journey from one end of Britain to the other, but already my legs are aching from 363km of riding that have taken me from John O’Groats, across the top of Scotland and down the west coast to the small fishing village of Aultbea on the shore of Loch Ewe.

Despite it being July, the morning is chilly and rain has been my constant companion for two days. To compound my misery the road immediately begins snaking upwards, giving my legs no chance to warm up properly.

I scold myself for such an oversight in my planning but soon find some inner peace by watching a lone creel boat head to sea, the gentle thrum of its engine carried to me on the salty breeze.

Slowly my legs are coaxed out of their stupor by a road that abruptly rises and falls as it picks its way around a series of ink-black lochs.

A road sign appears through the incessant drizzle offering the simplest of warnings: Expect the Unexpected. It seems unnecessarily dramatic, but will become something of a mantra as the day develops.

I barely have time to digest the words before a pair of young bucks emerges from a hedge, forcing me to stop abruptly. They pause, eye me for a moment, then bound away.

Senses heightened by the encounter I press on, enjoying one of those rare moments where road and elements conspire to give the impression that I’m riding a magic carpet.

I slip along at speed, seemingly effortlessly, dwarfed by the landscape as I ride beside Loch Maree. On either side of me are great slabs of rock that rise precipitously towards an ashen grey sky that, for all its menace, does little to quell my euphoria.

As I swing right, away from the loch, I feel a bit like Alice dropping down the rabbit hole to emerge in a strange alternate universe.

Initially framed by verges of vibrant purple heather, the arrow-straight road soon passes through a narrow tunnel of trees, eventually spitting me out into the heart of a wide glen.

In the distance a series of exposed, rocky peaks looms ever larger, their emerald green flanks leading down to the banks of Loch Clair where a thicket of pine trees and tussocks of wild grass add to a scene reminiscent of an oil painting.

A sudden, violent downpour catches me unawares, leaving me sodden in an instant, but I carry on unperturbed, wondering what will unfold around the next corner.

Bonnie banks and braes

I remain in awe of my surroundings as I ride towards the picturesque village of Sheildaig. Nestled on the shores of the loch of the same name, and with the imperious double-peak of Beinn Alligin – Gaelic for ‘mountain of beauty’ – in the background, Sheildaig marks the start of the one of the most seductive stretches of road I have ever had the privilege to ride, not just on our own fair shores but anywhere in the world.

I thought the climb up Bealach na Ba would be the highlight of the day. I was wrong – instead it’s the prelude to the revered ramps of Scotland’s most iconic climb that provide the true jewel in an impressive crown abundant with gems.

The 40km of road that intricately weaves its way around the Applecross Peninsula sends me tumbling deeper still into the wonderland I’ve spent most of the day discovering. Only now I’m in a more genteel landscape.

Gone are the vertiginous mountains and in their place are rolling hills strewn with boulders leading down to rocky coves battered by the sea.

Hidden among the folds of the landscape are a series of short pitches that could only have been built by someone with a disdain for cyclists.

Each forces me out of the saddle and requires me to muscle my way up their inclines, hunched over the handlebars, legs and lungs straining, longing for just one more gear.

A handful of remote hamlets cling to the wild headland; quite how the inhabitants survive here is a mystery to me. I have no time to ponder my answer though as four Highland cattle appear before me, sauntering along the centre of the road, determined to make me wait before I can continue on my way. Not that I’m in a hurry – in fact I’m content to slow to their pace to afford my legs a welcome rest.

Once past the cows the road bends to the left at the most northerly tip of the peninsula, providing a teasing glimpse of something spectacular ahead, only for the view to be quickly obscured by a rocky ridge. Eager to see what lies beyond the ridge I quicken my pace, sprinting out of the saddle to crest the brow of a hill that’s the portal to an otherworldly vista.

Across the cobalt waters of Inner Sound – the strait that separates the peninsula from the Isle of Skye – lies a string of sawtooth mountains that reminds me of the serious climbing still to come.

For now I have the luxury of a tailwind providing a heavy hand on my back, pushing me towards Applecross. With the tide out the bay is a great sweep of golden sand, the beauty at the foot of the beast that is Bealach na Ba.

A true monster

There are few ascents in the UK that can be compared to their longer, more revered counterparts in Europe, but Bealach na Ba – meaning ‘pass of the cattle’ in reference to the fact that it began life as a dirt track for cattle drovers – is one such climb.

The classic ascent is from the east, the opposite direction to which I’m travelling, but either way the Bealach na Ba has stats fearsome enough that Simon Warren’s book 100 Greatest Cycling Climbs graded it as 11/10 – the toughest climb in Britain.

It gains around 600m of height over around 9km of riding, with an average gradient between 6% and 7%. But if those numbers don’t seem too daunting, it’s the 20% sections that will ensure this is a climb your legs will never forget.

I’ve been awaiting this moment for the best part of three days, and I quicken my pace and ignore the various warning signs as I hit the lower slopes of a climb that’s famed for having the most ascent of any road in the UK.

The gentler inclines at the start suit my build so I push hard, relishing the physical battle to maintain such a high tempo. It’s only when the full scale of the climb unfolds in front of me, disappearing into the distance high above, that I remind myself I’m not racing a Grand Tour and there’s an incredibly long way to go to Cornwall. Now is not the time to burn too many matches.

Settling into a more manageable pace I approach the steepest stretch and it feels like I have been transported to the Alps and the final throes of the mighty Galibier, such is the way the road snakes up ever higher.

A thick mist swathes the mountain, reducing visibility to just a few feet as I make a final push for the top, out of the saddle, heart thumping, face varnished with sweat.

In the time it takes me to put on my jacket for the descent the mist clears, revealing a majestic panorama back towards Skye. I cast my mind to the multitude of mountains I’ve stood atop and struggle to think of many with views as beautiful.

Gone with the wind

The descent to Loch Kishorn is fast, the road unfurling down the mountain after a series of tight switchbacks. I pass a trio of cyclists making their way up, faces contorted with pain, reluctant to return my jovial greetings but doing so anyway out of decorum.

It’s not long before I’m suffering on a climb again myself – such is the nature of the terrain – but this time I get to experience something that has been missing for the past three days: complete silence.

Finally, after nearly 500km, the wind has abated and the air in the forest I’m riding through is still. It’s so quiet I can hear my heart beating as I climb slowly but surely towards a hidden peak.

In that moment I become aware of the tiniest details: the plump little orbs of water hanging precariously from the tips of leaves; the intricate patterns of the moss that carpets the forest floor; the hum of my tyres on fresh asphalt.

A crack of thunder shatters the tranquillity, bringing with it a sustained downpour that provides the backdrop for the final 10km.

I’ve long since resigned myself to the fact that I’m unlikely to see sunshine any time soon, instead finding a twisted joy from riding in the rain, which is just as well given the forecast for what’s to come over the next few days.

My joy turns to dismay on the final descent as the rain turns the road into a slick chute requiring total concentration just to stay upright.

Fittingly the day ends at the gates of one of the country’s most iconic castles, Eilean Donan. It’s the star of many a ‘Visit Scotland’ poster but today has a sinister air to it, set against a dark and gloomy sky, a lone Saltire flapping violently in the wind.

Here my mind fills with flashbacks from the ride and I find myself wondering if I could ever experience another day like this in Scotland. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

Mapping powered by komoot

Komoot tips to stay on track

No3: See ride Highlights while planning your route

Click the community-generated Highlights (red dots) on the komoot map to see recommended sections of road, often with photos and tips, that can easily be added to your route. Smaller red dots are gravel, MTB and hiking Highlights.

Essential JOGLE kit

No3: Mercedes Marco Polo, from £53,180, mercedes-benz.co.uk

When it came to choosing our support vehicle, we had a number of requirements. First it needed to double as a home for our photographer, as stopping at hotels was not an option during the Covid-19 lockdown.

It had to be small and nimble enough to get around some pretty tight roads, powerful enough to get over the climbs and roomy enough to store loads of photography equipment and provide a comfortable work space.

In the Mercedes Marco Polo we had the perfect vehicle. At around five metres long it looks pretty compact from the outside and is certainly no road-hog, but once you open the back doors and step inside it is Tardis-like in its roominess.

There’s seating for four around a table, with seats that fold down into a double bed, and if you pop up the roof you have a second mezzanine bedroom. There’s also a fully fitted kitchen with cooker, sink, fridge and plenty of cupboard space. There are London flats that aren’t as spacious or well appointed as this.

To drive it is quiet and comfortable, feeling more like a luxury cruiser than a lumbering truck. It’s not the cheapest campervan you’ll find, but then it is a Mercedes so you know that extra cash is going into quality manufacturing that will keep you moving however wild and remote the journey gets.

Thanks

Riding from one end of Britain to the other is a major undertaking, and Cyclist had help from a number of sources.

Firstly, thanks to komoot for help with creating a route that takes in many of the best parts of the country for riding a bike.

As the ride took place during the period just after Covid-19 lockdown, we couldn’t use hotels or B&Bs, so many thanks to Bailey of Bristol (baileyofbristol.co.uk) for the loan of an Autograph 74-4 motorhome, which proved to be an excellent moving base for the trip.

Thanks also to Mercedes (mercedes-benz.co.uk) for the loan of a Marco Polo campervan, as used by our photographer for the duration of the ride.

Good kit choices are vital on a challenge such as this to avoid unneccesary stops, and I couldn’t have asked for better than the Factor O2 Disc bike (factorbikes.co.uk), Castelli clothing (saddleback.co.uk), Giro helmet and shoes (zyrofisher.co.uk), Sungod eyewear (sungod.co), Wahoo Roam bike computer (wahoofitness.com), Garmin Vector 3 Power Pedals (garmin.com) and Supernova lights (supernova-lights.com).

Nutrition was supplied by Named Sport (namedsport.com) and post-ride recovery came courtesy of Reboots (reboots.de). Thanks also to Hutchinson (windwave.co.uk) for the spare tyres and inner tubes in case of blowouts, and to Ribble for the loan of the e-bike, which allowed our photographer to keep up on the hills when the going got too tough for the campervan.

Finally, thanks to my wife and kids, who proved to be the perfect support crew.

On 12th December, Britain's Alex Dowsett was set to take to the Manchester Velodrome an his attempt to regain the Hour Record from Belgian Victor Campenaerts... then he caught Covid.

Joe and James caught up with Dowsett while he was in isolation to talk catching Covid and it forcing him to postpone his Hour attempt, why he was certain he could go better than his 2015 effort and recapture the record and about that memorable Giro d'Italia stage win which kept him in cycling's WorldTour.

To listen to the podcast on Apple Podcasts, click here.

Also in the episode, Joe mentions the new Adidas road cycling shoes which you can find out more about here.

James talks about the stupidly light Specialized S-Works Aethos he is testing currently. Learn more about that bike here.

If you enjoy the episode, please remember to leave us a review and share with your cycling friends.

In association with Castelli

For more on the Cyclist Magazine Podcast, click here.
Subscribe to Cyclist Magazine now, click here.

Join Cyclist in the latest global two-wheeled craze as we find out what it’s like to climb 8,848m in a day

Words: Marcus LeachPhotography: Gavin Kaps

As I near the final few metres of the climb, I give in to temptation and look down at my Wahoo. For the best part of two hours I have been avoiding doing so, but now I simply have to know.

I read the only four numbers that matter: 6,652m. A quick calculation tells me I still have another 25 ascents of a stretch of road that I have, over the past 11 hours, come to know better than any I have ridden before.

I’m no stranger to cycling challenges that champion discomfort and perseverance, but even by my standards this borders on the absurd.

As a concept, Everesting is simple: pick any hill, anywhere in the world, and cycle up and down it on one continuous ride until you have accumulated 8,848m of vertical ascent, the same height as Mount Everest. That, as I am discovering, is where the simplicity of the challenge ends.

The reality is that such a ride will, no matter how fit or experienced you are, push you to the very edge of your physical and mental limits and probably beyond. As the hours and metres slowly tick by it will leave you questioning your sanity.

After all, who in their right mind would voluntarily ride tens or potentially hundreds of laps of the same climb to complete a ride that offers little more than personal satisfaction.

There are no medals or finisher’s T-shirts upon completion of the ordeal – just a sense of achievement and pride at being inducted into the Everesting Hall of Fame.

But that, as I have discovered from talking to numerous people who have completed these rides, is the whole point of a challenge that has exploded in popularity in recent months.

What began as the nichest of niche ideas has become a global phenomenon, thanks largely to the impact Covid-19 has had in decimating both the professional and amateur race calendars.

A combination of no racing and lockdown saw a sudden spike in riders of all abilities logging virtual Everestings on Zwift, which was followed by more traditional outdoor Everestings, and a subsequent battle for the world record, currently held by Alberto Contador at a staggering 7 hours 27 minutes and 20 seconds.

Contador’s effort eclipsed previous record holder Lachlan Morton by over two minutes, this after Morton completed two Everestings in six days when his first record was scrubbed out due to dodgy data. Not that it was meant to be about breaking records.

‘Everesting was never intended to be something where people were trying to go sub-eight hours,’ says Andy van Bergen, head of the Hells 500 collective and creator of the Everesting concept.

‘If anything it was designed to be the exact opposite, something far more inclusive that anyone could do anywhere, anytime. I wanted people to see it as a way of pushing their limits, inspiring them to do something different, all the while united by a common goal.’

Image 3 of 17

Image 3 of 17

Line of attack

My own attempt starts inauspiciously. I have chosen to execute my Everesting assault on The Tumble, a 4km climb with an average 8.5% gradient in South Wales, not far from where I live.

However, when I arrive at 1am I’m greeted with howling winds so strong that I can barely open the door of my motorhome, and torrential rain is rendering my chosen stretch of road unsafe to ride.

I’m left with a simple choice: wait it out or find a new climb. It’s clear the storm has set in for the night, and so my mind turns to finding an alternative, which, given the various criteria of ideal length, gradient and straightness of road is easier said than done in the middle of the night.

The only other option I can think of is a 1km stretch nearby called Mill Hill, which I had initially dismissed in my planning phase. It has a similar average gradient to The Tumble, but its shortness means many more laps and a subsequent lack of recovery time between ascents.

Its saving grace is that it’s sheltered from the wind, but I’d be going from riding 38 laps on The Tumble – already a daunting prospect – to 95 on Mill Hill. It’s simply unimaginable, yet I have little choice. I get back into the driver’s seat and head for the new climb.

The magnitude of what lies ahead fills my mind as I leave the warmth of the motorhome and step into night’s dark embrace. I freewheel to the bottom of the climb, the chill of the air fresh on my face, press start on my bike computer, turn and begin the first ascent.

In that moment all of my worries and nerves fade, although I’m wise enough to know that in the coming hours my sense of optimism will dwindle until eventually I’ll be forced to confront the darkest corners of my mind. But for now, at least, I’m calm and focussed.

Image 10 of 17

Image 10 of 17

Mind games

I find climbing in the dark comparatively easy. By narrowing my world to the six feet in front of me I quietly tick off a handful of ascents without too much effort.

I try not to think about the fact I still have more than 80 to go, concentrating instead on counting pedal strokes, at first in English, then in French, followed by German, Spanish and even Chinese. Anything to keep my mind occupied.

Night slowly gives way to day as light spills onto the horizon, and with it comes my first moment of mental darkness. I find myself struggling to stay awake, closing my eyes for increasingly longer periods, fighting the urge to stop and sleep, which is against the rules of Everesting (unless you’re doing a Double Everesting – yes, there is such a thing – in which case you can sleep for two hours in between). I’m saved by a message from my wife flashing up on my head unit, a timely boost to my morale and a reminder that I’m not alone.

Everesting is, I discover, a series of ups and downs, both literally and metaphorically. For every peak of optimism comes a trough of despair where the mind darkens to such an extent it’s hard to imagine just one more rep, let alone the thousands of vertical metres still required. I ride the waves of optimism, forgoing even momentary stops for extra supplies for fear it will kill my momentum and mood.

Six hours in and the reality of the situation dawns on me. I’m not even halfway through and, as I had originally feared, I’m not getting enough recovery on the descents.

No sooner have I begun to feel the joy of gliding back down, the breeze peeling beads of sweat from my face and the vice-like grip on my legs released, than I’m forced to pull sharply on my brakes, turn and begin all over again.

The thought of riding this exact same stretch for another eight hours is more than my brain can comprehend. And therein lies the greatest battle of Everesting; overcoming the mountains of the mind.

Not unlike an actual Everest expedition, cycling’s equivalent requires the efforts of a team, in this case my family. They arrive as I edge past 5,000m of ascent, legs stinging and mind close to cracking.

Never has a sweat-drenched hug been more welcome or felt so good. In those fleeting moments I’m able to escape the world I have been locked in for what seems like eternity, and with that comes a renewed belief.

For the first time since beginning I have a focus outside of simply climbing. I no longer feel isolated from the rest of the world, trapped in my own perpetual hell.

Maybe it’s naive of me to think that such a feeling will last, but when the euphoria inevitably fades a wave of despondency washes over me as I realise that, despite having clocked over 6,600m, I still have the equivalent of two ascents up Alpe d’Huez to go.

I’m reminded of Van Bergen’s words of advice: ‘The first 6,000m is all about the legs, after which it is all in the head.’ I would argue that all 8,848m are in the head.

Image 5 of 17

Image 5 of 17

Summit fever

Growing whispers of uncertainty crowd my mind. ‘It’s too steep’. ‘Nobody will think bad of you’. ‘Stop the suffering now’. ‘Get to 7,000m then call it a day’.

As tempting as it is to give in to that nagging voice I’ve come too far to fall short now. I bow my head, resign myself to the suffering that lies ahead and press down on the pedals.

From the corner of my blurred vision I notice a wheel passing by, and then a voice: ‘One more, one less, that’s what your Granddad always says.’

It takes me a moment to realise that it’s my mum’s voice, but when I do I struggle to keep my emotions in check. She has come to join me, riding her e-bike, and for the best part of two hours we ride together, more often than not in silence, but united by my goal and her desire to help me achieve it.

At a time when I could have happily climbed off the bike her mere presence is enough to keep me going.

With five laps left I’m alone on the road again, questioning my ability to drag myself back up this wretched climb. So close and yet still that voice of apathy torments me.

I’m no longer fully conscious of what I’m doing as I drunkenly weave my way up the steepest sections in a hope that my body and mind won’t give out now. I focus on the tiniest of distances, creeping ever closer to the end.

It’s not until the final descent that I’m able to truly believe I will make it back up one last time, and even then it takes every last ounce of energy.

Whatever resolve has been pushing me forward for the past hour finally evaporates as those magical numbers appear, releasing a burgeoning wave of exhaustion that has been threatening to flood my body for some time.

On a nondescript stretch of road in Wales I couldn’t be further from Everest, and yet I have somehow hauled myself to its summit.

In essence every ascent is the same; you pedal and you go up. But no single ascent is ever the same, your mind and emotions continually morphing.

What’s more, how you view the small corner of the world you’re in evolves as you ride into the unknown, becoming someone different for all that you force yourself to endure.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve physically suffered so much, but never have I exposed myself to such mental torment.

It’s a vulnerable place to be, submerged in a world where the goal is so simple, yet so demanding. But now I see why so many people are going up.

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Image 4 of 17

The climb

Conquering Everest 1km at a time

What: Mill Hill Climb
Where: Brockweir, near Chepstow, Gloucestershire
Distance: 1.08km
Elevation: 94m
Average gradient: 8.5%
Max gradient: 11.7%

What is Everesting?

The rules – as established by Hells 500, the orginator of Everesting

• Climb the equivalent height of Mount Everest: 8,848m
• Any climb will do, but you must repeat the same climb for the whole challenge, and descend that climb each time as well (no loops allowed)
• It must be done in one ride. Breaks for food and rest are OK, but no sleeping
• No walking – it must all be ridden
• It must be recorded on Strava and verified by Hells 500 to be official (see everesting.cc)

Image 17 of 17

Image 17 of 17

The rider’s ride

Factor O2 VAM, £8,245 (£4,330 frameset only), factorbikes.com

At 90kg I’m a long way from the ideal build for climbing, let alone so much in such a condensed manner, so thank heavens for this dream machine. The Factor O2 VAM is the quintessential climbing bike – its name even comes from the climber’s favourite metric, ‘vertical metres per hour’ – and it is now the weapon of choice for the Israel Start-Up Nation pro squad.

I didn’t get a chance to weigh this bike, but I know the disc brake version in this spec comes in at a very light 6.6kg, so I would fully expect this rim brake setup to be even lighter.

Factor says the weight is achieved using special additives in the carbon composite and clever moulding. I suspect it may be witchcraft. Either way, the bike’s lightness doesn’t seem to affect its stiffness or handling, both of which were greatly appreciated on this 1km stretch of South Wales.

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Image 13 of 17

The perfect climb

Everesting aficionado Phil Gaimon gives Cyclist a few tips on finding the right spot

Since retiring as a pro in 2016, American cyclist Phil Gaimon has established a strong following on social media by targeting Strava KoMs and setting himself riding challenges. In May 2020 Gaimon broke the Everesting world record, only to see his time bettered by pro mountain biker Keegan Swenson four days later.

Gaimon has vowed to regain the record, but he says part of the plan relies on finding the right climb.

‘I’ve been searching the States for the perfect hill – not that I’d tell you where it is if I did find it! It’s mostly to do with the gradient. A lot of people want a hill that’s not too hard, so they find something that’s, say, 6%, but then they realise that they have to ride 280km or something, whereas on a 12% hill it’s half that.

‘If you look at the fastest times set, they are all at around 11%. I think 13-14% is best as it’s about as steep as you can go and still be seated on the bike. And the longer the better, which means fewer turnarounds – every time you turn around it’s about 10-15 seconds gone. It also needs to be safe, with a non-technical descent so you’re not wasting time on the brakes.

‘There’s no database of these climbs, so it’s really just a case of scanning Strava till you find the right one.’

Thanks

A number of people helped me on my epic ascent. Thanks to Factor (factorbikes.com) for the loan of the super-light Factor 02 VAM bike; Rapha (rapha.cc) for the kit – sorry for getting it sweaty; Named Sport (namedsport.com) for the box of nutrition products that kept me going for hour after hour; Garmin (garmin.com) for the loan of the Vector power pedals to gather my data; and Wahoo (wahoofitness.com) for the Roam bike computer, which lasted the course with hours of battery life to spare.

Thanks also to Bailey of Bristol for the best possible base in the shape of an Autograph 74-4 motorhome – my sanctuary at the foot of the hill.

And finally, special thanks to my family who acted as my sherpas, giving me the support, and delicious food, I needed to get through this challenge.