James Thinks

Board game review: Daybreak

2024-02-06T14:40:00+00:00

As I'm interested in ways to communicate about the climate crisis, I was excited to see the idea for a new board game on this theme.

Daybreak's website describes it as follows:

"Daybreak is a cooperative boardgame about stopping climate change. It is an unapologetically hopeful vision of the near future, where you and your friends get to build the mind-blowing technologies and resilient societies we need to save the planet."

So, in September 2022, I chipped in to the Backerkit funder for Daybreak. I wasn't the only one to be excited by this concept. The game's crowdfunders contributed six times the funding target and it has received above-average reviews on Board Games Geek, in spite of some early teething problems.

I received the game late December 2023 and since then I've played it several times, both solo and in various groups of four.

Look and feel

The game has consciously reduced environmental impact in its production, presumably to avoid accusations of hypocrisy. It's made entirely without plastic or environmentally-intensive textiles, using cardboard from FSC certified forests. It's not perfect, but it's better than most and a nice touch that helps make people think. Why isn't everything done this way?

The artwork on each card is compelling and really brings the game to life, almost as much as PARKS whose subject matter itself provides inspiring vistas.

Dirty energy tokens are brown, but can be flipped to reveal a green side. The tags that feature on every card are pretty intuitive and easy to recognise after a short time playing the game. To help with the learning curve, each player gets an info card naming the tags and showing how common the card is. For example, local projects featuring nuclear tags are rare at 5%, while regulation tags feature on 23% of cards.

There's a temptation to simply min-max mathematical solutions which is tempered by players' affinity for a particularly inspiring card. These competing aspects are part of what makes the game immersive and interesting.

Game mechanics

Players in Daybreak represent one of up-to four world powers or regions - USA, China, Europe or Majority World. They each have different starting cards, emissions profiles and growth rates. As the game progresses, emissions lead to rising temperatures which result in more frequent crises which have a variety of negative consequences for people and planet. If the temperature reaches two degrees above pre-industrial averages, all players lose. If any player has more than twelve communities in crisis, all players lose.

Players win by collectively reaching drawdown which is the point at which more greenhouse gases are being removed from the atmosphere than added.

Like Wingspan, Terraforming Mars and Pandemic, Daybreak is a card-driven building game. Each round players collectively choose a global project, then accumulate stacks of local project cards with matching "tags" to increase their utility.

For example, a player might use the local project card "Small Scale Onshore Wind".

When placed on top of one of a player's five stacks, this card would replace any local project underneath. If the stack already had two pylon (grid) tags then this new project could be used immediately. If not, those grid cards could later be tucked underneath to activate it.

Once activated, the local project provides an additional green energy token each round, per wind tag. As the card itself only comes with one tag, it's not of huge value on its own, but tucking additional wind tagged cards underneath can generate additional green energy each round.

Another card that is very helpful is the Degrowth Movement.

In Daybreak, every player's energy demand rises each turn due to growth in both population and consumption. Players need to keep their energy supply up to meet this or have communities fall into crisis. The degrowth card allows players to reduce their overall demand, if they have built up enough society tags in this stack. This can be an alternative to growing large amounts of renewable energy. This leaves more resources left to reduce emissions.

Other cards allow players to draw additional cards, share cards with other players, add resilience, restore nature and so on. More gameplay details can be found on the Daybreak "How to Play" page. You can also play Daybreak online or watch others play on Board games arena.

The box says it takes 60-90 minutes to play, but if you are all new to the game it can take twice as long. When the board and all the cards are laid out, a fairly large table is needed.

Strategy

I'm no expert, but this is what I've learned so far from playing Daybreak.

Co-operation is essential. It would be a a poorly-designed co-operative game if working together didn't provide an advantage. While the global project is the only thing which is explicitly a collective decision, good players will look to see what others need. It's not always possible to share cards directly, but there are plenty of opportunities to provide resilience to other players or save their communities in crisis.
Play to your strengths. At the start of the game each region has different starting cards. For example Europe can build a stack that will provide resilience to any player, or remove communities in crisis for any player. Meanwhile the USA can donate local project cards to other players, who may be in need of a crucial tag to empower their stack. China starts with the Green Tech Exports card allowing them to give renewable energy from their board to others. Sometimes this is very useful, but it depends on whether China gets other cards allowing them to rapidly scale their green energy beyond their own needs.
Be opportunistic. The global and local project cards are dealt randomly, so sometimes they don't fit with your plans. If you can keep a variety of tags across your stack then you should be able to make use of most cards. Whether you reduce your emissions, restore wetlands or plant more trees has the same effect in the long run, so do what you can or see who else you can help.
Get more cards. It's a huge bonus if players can draw additional local projects each turn, especially if they have a mechanism to donate them to other players.
Think long-term. If you're choosing between a card which will remove your transport emissions and one which will phaseout dirty energy, think about which you have more of and whether you can play something over the stack once that emission source is removed. Not all cards are equal. Some scale well with additional stacks, some can only be used once per turn.
Prioritise emission source reduction. A single source of emissions you remove in round one will prevent emissions in every round that follows. That not only brings you closer to drawdown, but gives you more time to get there and reduces the chances of fatal crises on the way.
Gaining resilience is good too, but might not provide any immediate benefit. It's worth thinking about what crises might be coming and whether all regions can cope with the worst-case scenario - see below.

Climate education

I love that the game relates to the real world. Every card describes a realistic project that has either been implemented, or is likely to start somewhere in the world. There's a QR code on the corner of each card describing not only the nuances of game play, but the real-world reasoning behind the project and some links to news or research explaining the advantages and risks of each idea.

My impression is that agricultural emissions, shown in the game by the cow icon, are under-represented, given that they account for 26% of greenhouse gas emissions. There are only a few cow tokens overall on players' boards, but a great many energy tokens. Much of what is done in the game focuses on energy generation which is perhaps understandable as it's a big part of the puzzle and probably easier to model. However, it's nice to see ideas like Women and Girls' Education, reforestation and Cloud Brightening being represented.

What's more, it seems like the safest and most obvious cards are easy to choose, but some, like Global Solar Radiation Management have serious real-world risks attached, which are represented in the game as a having to draw additional crisis cards.

Conclusion

For those who haven't played similar board games, the learning curve of Daybreak may be steep initially. However, as it's a collaborative board game, it's fine to help each other out and learn as you go. In the groups I've played with, we've won about half the time. I think with practice it's possible to win maybe 60% of games. As with many good board games, there's an element of strategy and some luck involved. If you get a series of terrible cards, the game can be very difficult. There is enough realism not to let players win too easily, but that means it can be rather dispiriting when temperatures spiral out of control and multiple crises hit regions that are already struggling. Investing more than two hours of your time and witnessing the end of the world is not only disappointing, but a little scary.

That said, there's much to recommend Daybreak. I found it educational and fun. It's hugely rewarding to build a stack of cards which suddenly enables transformative change, or to realise that a small action on your part can save another region from calamity. In my opinion the attendees at COP should have to play Daybreak for the first day, each picking a region which is not their own. Sounds silly, but board games have been used to encourage co-operation in difficult negotiations and goodness knows we need to try something new!

If you're interested in playing Daybreak, you can buy it from publishers CMYK, or play online at Board Games Arena.

Global temperatures and reduced atmospheric aerosols

2024-01-27T22:38:00+00:00

2023 - The warmest year on record, especially the oceans

Anyone who has been paying attention to climate news will be aware that 2023 broke global temperature records, by a significant margin.

The graph above shows Global surface temperature anomalies. It's easy to see that more recent decades have been warmer, but 2023 is something else. To those aware of the floods, droughts and other extreme weather that rising global temperatures are causing, this is worrying to say the least.

So far, I haven't heard a lot of discussion of the reasons for this besides the ongoing effect of climate change and the end of the change from a La Niña period to El Niño.

Curiously though, the temperatures were well above average by April 2023, before El Niño had really arrived. What's more, the temperature change was particularly striking in the oceans.

The effect of suplate aerosol masking

I recently stumbled upon a podcast interviewing climate researcher Leon Simons who has worked recently with James Hansen. I encourage you to listen to the whole thing, and have a look at the slides, although it's nearly and hour and a half long. For those who prefer to read, I'll do my best to summarise the main points as I understand them here.

It seems that suplur dioxide emissions from internationl shipping were having a masking effect reducing sea temperatures, which are a large proportion of global temperatures. Effectively cooling oceans and the planet while greenhouse gases warmed them. Suplur dioxide converts to suplate aerosols in the atmosphere which act as many tiny mirrors, reflecting some sunlight back into space and cooling the planet. This is sometimes called global dimming. Sulphur particles have a secondary effect seeding clouds which also reflect sunlight back into space.

Global suplur dioxide emissions from international shipping. Sources: CEDS and Corbett et al. via The Great Simplification.

In the last few years, legislation has forced shipping fuel to greatly reduce its suplur content. This is in many ways a good thing as suplur can contribute to acid rain and is generally bad for human health. However, as compliance with this legislation increased and reflective suplur particles in the atmosphere decreased, the cooling effect was reduced and temperatures rose. Meanwhile concentrations of warming greenhouse gases are still increasing, so the net effect is strongly heating.

Unlike greenhouse gases, which can stay in the atmosphere for decades or centuries, these aerosols are cleared in days or weeks. So stopping them has a faster effect. Some have tried to use this as an argument for continuing to burn fossil fuels (another source of suplate aerosols), but research suggests this doesn't add up.

This was an accidental experiment in rapidly reducing reflective aerosols. A cooling effect has been removed, quite suddenly in climate terms.

What are the consequences?

Leon Simons has suggested that stopping this cooling effect might lead to an additional 0.2 to 0.9 degrees of warming in the first six months of 2024. A dramatic change that could take us over the dangerous threshold of 2 degrees of warming. This is likely to trigger further tipping points, making climate change much worse.

It is also like to disrupt or slow the Atlantic meridional overturning current (AMOC), of which the gulf stream is a part. That would have consequences for Atlantic weather patterns and probably on the ocean's ability to absorb further carbon dioxide and heat.

What have we learned?

The significant rise in temperatures suggests that the cooling effect of aerosols was underestimated. That in turn suggests that the climate is more sensitive to greenhouse gases than previously thought. In other words, climate sensitivity is towards the upper end of estimates.

This is very bad news as it means that existing predictions for future warming relying on climate sensitivity would also be underestimates, so we could expect more warming sooner, along with all the extreme weather that would bring.

This inadvertent experiment with atmospheric aerosols could be described as a "termination shock", when a cooling effect is suddenly stopped. That has long been a concern with the suggestion of intentional solar radition management by stratospheric aerosol injection. This is a method proposed to mitigate the warming effects of climate change by intentionally adding aerosols to the upper atmosphere. It's controversial and has huge risks of unintended consequences, especially if the world's ability or willingness to continue doing it suddenly faltered, unmasking a huge heating effect in a matter of weeks. Others fear it may be used as an excuse to continue with fossil fuel business as usual, neglecting the other dangerous effects of burning fossil fuels. Scientists are at least in agreement that geoengineering is not a substitute for the urgent decarbonisation of human activities.

So whether or not solar radiation management of some form might be safe or necessary, we are at least learning more about the likely effects and risks.

Living with an air-source heat pump

2023-01-04T19:28:00+00:00

I've been seeing a lot of interest online about heat pumps and some confusion about what they are and how they work. We had one installed in our home a couple of months ago. We're pleased with it and I'll describe our experiences below, but first I'll give a quick intro to heat pumps.

What is a heat pump?

A heat pump is an electrically powered device for moving heat from one place to another. This is in contrast to direct heating which turns electricity into heat. In the domestic setting this means getting heat from some outside source and moving it into the building for heating or hot water. Crucially the pump's output temperatures can be significantly higher than the input.

If that seems like magic, think about what a refrigerator does. A heat pump does the same in reverse - moving heat from one place to another.

Because of this, heat pumps are much more efficient than direct heating. In good conditions a modern air source heat pump can provide 3 to 4kW of heat for each kW of electricity consumed.

What kinds of heat pumps are there?

Heat pumps come in at least three flavours, depending on the source of heat they use.

Air-source heat pumps (ASHP) are most popular as they can be installed in most places. They typically have a large fan to pass ambient air over the heat sink. They will work at air temperatures as low as -20 degrees C and are popular in Scandanavia, but become less efficient as the outside temperature drops.

Ground-source heat pumps take heat from underground, sometimes a pair of deep boreholes, or shallow pipes over a large area. The ground stores a large amount of heat accumulated over many months. GSHPs have the advantage that they are not affected by air temperature so can achieve better average efficiencies. The downside is that they need more space to install and the work is messy and expensive.

Water-source heat pumps take heat from a natural water source such as a river. I don't know much about them as they are less common. I would imagine they are cheaper than ground source heat pumps and more efficient than air-source due to the flow of water. I suppose the risk might be that the water source either freezes or dries up.

In the UK most heat pumps provide heat to common water-filled radiators and hot water system, making them compatible with most legacy central heating systems. I understand that in countries with hotter climates they often provide warm and cold air to heat and cool the room with the same equipment.

For more in-depth information on heat pumps, see this guide from the Energy Saving Trust.

Our experience of an air-source heat pump

Our heat pump was installed in early February 2023. We made use of the UK's Boiler Upgrade Scheme to get £5000 towards the cost of our heat pump. In addition we paid around another £10000 including all parts and labor. We had a Mitsubishi Ecodan on the recommendation of a local company who had themselves been recommended by a friend. In retrospect, while their equipment is said to be reliable, Mitsubishi have rather dubious ethical credentials and if choosing again we might go for a Vaillant, Kensa or MasterTherm.

Installation

Our install was slightly complicated as we have some 8mm mircobore piping in our house. This means we needed an extra buffer tank so that the central heating water can be pumped around faster than the heat pump water. That added an extra £800 to the bill and took a little more space in our garage.

Speaking of space, we used a fair bit of space in the garage for the hot water cylinder, aforementioned buffer tank and a lot of pipework. This had to be linked to the condenser outside, which meant two wide copper pipes and a few wires through a few walls and across our kitchen wall. We discussed where this should go with the installers and they came up with a good solution keeping the distance as short as possible. This keeps costs and heat loss down. All the pipes were insulated by the installers, although I added a bit extra to the fiddly bits myself.

In addition to the heat pump and piping, we took the installers' advice and upgraded three radiators. Two of these needed upgrading anyway as they were rather rusty.

Performance & Economy

Our old combi gas boiler was already set up to run as efficiently as possible by reducing the flow temperature. It was only about five years old, so should be fairly efficient. I sold it to a friend who should be able to reduce their gas use and costs as a result.

The installer provided calculations that showed we would save about £10 per year. Clearly not a huge financial incentive, but that was never our main motivation. It also didn't take into account what we might pay for our electricity in the future. In particular, the fact that we had solar panels would greatly reduce the cost of daytime use.

I put together a spreadsheet with our domestic energy usage for Jan-Mar 2022 and 2023 so I could make some comparisons. The trouble is that it's very difficult to compare like with like due to many confounding factors. To name a few: energy prices, outside air temperatures, usage patterns. For example, I don't have any record of how many times we used the oven during these months, which consumes significant electrical energy. However, I do have a few qualitative observations I can make with confidence.

Cost of running in February 2023 was slightly higher than January 2023

Why should this be? Aren't heat pumps meant to be very efficient?

The cost difference is mostly because electricity from the grid cost us ~44p/kWh in the day and ~16p/kWh at night while gas costs ~10p/kWh. As we have solar panels, this will change with longer days and more sunlight. February is a poor month for solar.

Finally, as the temperatures dropped to around freezing a few times, the heat pump would have been less efficient. At times it iced up and would occasionally perform a defrost cycle which presumably adds to the running cost. When the outside temperature is over 5 degrees C (41F), the coeffcient of performance (COP) increases.

The data from the heat pump control panel suggests that February's COP was 2.21 and March was 2.75.

Energy and carbon emissions

Our overall energy use with the heat pump appears to be about half as much as with the gas central heating. It is likely that our carbon emissions are reduced by at least this much, depending partly on the current carbon intensity of the grid when we're using it. This is further improved when we have strong daylight or sunshine as we can make use of our solar panels. We only get paid 4.1p/kWh for solar export, so that could be considered the cost of using our solar energy, which is much cheaper than importing from the grid.

We have additionally bought shares in a Ripple wind farm, although it is not finished yet. When complete this will further reduce the cost of our electricity and effective carbon footprint.

Thermal comfort

Our thermal comfort with the heat pump was noticeably better than the previous month on gas. With gas, we tended to heat our home only during the evenings and briefly in the morning. Heating the entire house all day, even while working from home in a single room, seemed like an extravagance. At times the room temperature dropped to 15 degrees C (59F).

Heat pumps are intended to be run most of the time as, due to the lower flow temperatures (35-50 degrees C rather than 60-80), it takes longer to warm up. So that's what we do and now our home is at a constant temperature of 19 degrees C (66F) during the day, dropping to 18 at night.

It feels strange at first, that the radiators are sometimes not very warm to the touch and never hot enough to hurt your hand. Yet the house is consistently comfortable.

I think when using gas to heat the home rapidly and infrequently, as we did before, it's mostly the air which gets heated. In contrast the heat pump is on a gentle heat all the time. This means that every object in the house is slightly warmer, as are the internal wall surfaces. So it takes longer to cool down and when we open a window for fresh air the heat doesn't seem to disappear immediately.

Domestic hot water

We have a 200L tank in the garage for hot water as seen above. This seems to be sufficient for our showers, washing up, etc. The good thing about having it in a well-insulated tank is that we can choose when it gets heated. I've set this to happen during the night, when electricity is cheap and late morning, when we often have excess solar power. For those with solar power but no heat pump, it can make sense to use excess solar to heat water with an electric immersion heater. Our system included two of these for emergency use and a regular anti-legionella cycle. However, using the heat pump to heat the water to 50 degrees C might use only a third or a quarter of the electricity. I'm told the tank will lose 1 degree of heat after 17 hours. In the summer, most of our hot water could be free.

What's worth noting is that the heat pump won't heat water and provide heating at the same time. That has never been an issue as it seems to take less than an hour to heat the water and the house doesn't cool down much in that time.

Getting off gas

We still have a gas supply to our house for a four-ring hob, but we intend to change this for an induction hob in the near future. Until then we're paying around £9 a month in standard charges. This should be cheaper and, more importantly, healthier.

Noise

A major concern for those considering an air source heat pump is the noise of the condenser unit that sits outside. We've not found that a problem at all. If I stand next to it when the fan is running, I can certainly hear it, but more than a couple of metres away, I can only hear it on a very still day. In the summer, when we're likely to be sitting out in the garden, the fan won't usually be running at all.

What is sometimes noisy is the internal pump for the radiators. This runs at a higher rate than most due to our microbore piping. However, I turned it down to the lowest of three settings so the noise is rarely enough to be annoying. This does not seem to have affected the heating.

Other features

The Ecodan comes with an easy to use programmable panel to control timings and temperatures as well as a simple remote unit which acts as a thermostat - so it therefore needs to be placed carefully. There is also a smartphone app which will provide current and historical temperature data as well as allowing you to temporarily change the target temperature or turn the hot water on. However, it doesn't allow you to edit the settings on the main control panel.

Conclusion

Overall we're pleased with the heat pump and service from installers Summit Energies. I understand that there is a regulation that specifies the system must be able to reach 21 degrees C even when the temperature outside is -10 degrees C. We never have the thermostat as high as 21, so I guess they slightly overspecified the system. They can't easily tell how much microbore is hidden in the walls and how much is wider piping. So they err on the side of safety. I think the central heating pump could probably have been a less powerful one.

But the main improvement is thermal comfort. Our house is always the temperature we want and, for most of the year, it will cost us less to run. Our carbon emissions from heating have been significantly reduced and, as the grid continues to decarbonise, will reduce further.

Should we stop cyclists from wearing black?

2023-01-04T19:28:00+00:00

Bright colours make cyclists easier to see. That's common sense and, with a few caveats, backed up by the evidence. So conversely, cyclists wearing dark colours such as black or grey are harder for other road users to see.

This seems like an obvious safety issue and is probably why I often hear from people complaining about how irresponsible, even stupid, cyclists are to wear black. One person even suggested I might want to shout at other cyclists who aren't visible enough on the roads.

Not black and white

I think wearing bright colours in the day and retroreflective material at night is good advice and it's what I do in most situations as you can see in the photo above. Also, bicycles, like all road vehicles, should have appropriate and legal lighting after dark.

However, I would never criticise another cyclist for wearing black, nor would I support any law that compels them to wear high vis clothing.

Why not?

The arguments are subtle, so I hope you'll bear with me.

Where responsibility lies

All road users are expected to avoid collisions, even with dark-coloured objects. If there are animals wandering in the road, a fallen tree or other non-human hazards, they must be seen and avoided. So we, as road users, must be able to stop for these hazards and others which are not specifically designed for us to see easily. That might be difficult sometimes, such as in the dark or the fog. In that case we have to slow down until we can be sure of avoiding a collision. Perhaps we could go faster if every possible hazard was lit up like a Christmas tree and we could see it sooner, but that is neither practical nor fair. Instead we must travel at a speed that allows us to avoid cows or derbis in the road.

We don't criticise people for driving black cars

For some reason this complaint is levelled most often at cyclists. Occasionally pedestrians are similarly chided, but I've yet to see any of this ire directed at the drivers of black and dark-coloured cars.

In case you're wondering, yes dark-coloured cars are involved in more collisions. The difference is that a car involved in a collision it is far more likely to kill another person than a bicycle is. This is mostly due to physics - cars are heavier and often moving faster so do more damage. Most of the risk for a cyclist in dark colours is to themselves.

For anyone genuinely interested in road safety, cyclists wearing black seems a strange thing to fixate on.

Don't exaggerate the dangers

Cycling is often depicted as a dangerous activity. Mandating safety equipment such as helmets or hi vis clothing reinforces that. In reality, as this thorough article explains, by cycling "you’re less likely to be killed than you are by walking a similar distance" - although other injuries are more likely.

Cycling should be seen as a normal way to get around as it is in the Netherlands. People should be able to get on a bike and go somewhere regardless of what clothing they're wearing, just as pedestrians and people on public transport do. Adding special safety equipment makes cycling more expensive and less convenient as well as making it feel dangerous.

Giving people the impression that a healthy activity like cycling is dangerous discourages people from doing it. There's plenty of evidence that the health benefits of cycling outweigh the risks. If people are put off cycling, then even more lives will be lost through heart disease, diabetes and other illnesses exacerbated by sedentary lifestyles.

In the long run vicitim-blaming doesn't improve safety

In a collision between a car and a bicycle, it is likely that the cyclist will be hurt more than the driver. It seems fair to consider the cyclist the victim in the majority of collisions. Asking potential victims to change their behaviour to stay safe is not reasonable and suggests they are partly to blame. That further entrenches car culture. When clothing recommendations come from official sources, they can influence road traffic legal cases, as Cycling UK have pointed out.

For a glimpse of how bad that car-first thinking can get, consider the pedestrian crossing flags found in some parts of the USA.

Brightly coloured flags are provided beside crosswalks for pedestrians to wave as they cross the road. This is believed to help catch drivers attention sooner and keep them safe. People are having to take extra measures to compensate for drivers' carelessness. Pedestrians are not the problem, careless drivers are. Before long it could become expected that all pedestrians will be carrying flags, so drivers can pay even less attention and go faster still.

As Tom Flood puts it: "We ask everyone outside of the car to be safe so that drivers can be dangerous".

Social action: Voluntary or mandatory

2022-11-01T16:10:00+00:00

There's a long-running debate within climate activism about whether to concentrate on individual changes or more systemic ones. Should we spend time encouraging ordinary people to change their lifestyles, or pressure the government to improve things from the top? I've written before about how much we should worry about our personal carbon footprints, but I want to look at it from another angle now.

First, a related issue which I think is analogous.

What is the difference between taxation and charity?

Imagine your society has some important job which needs doing, something that's too big for one person to handle on their own. Looking after the elderly population, building a mass transit system, teaching children - anything that's generally considered a good thing.

How do you achieve it? How do you fund it?

One way is charity - entirely voluntary. Anyone who wants to donate their money or time can do so; those who don't want to don't have to.

The alternative is some form of taxation or public service. This involves everyone contributing something. It may vary according to people's means, but it's near-universal and compulsory.

I've been thinking about which of these is fairer and which is more effective.

A right-leaning libertarian might be against any kind of compulsion, possibly against all taxation. They might argue that it's fine to ask someone to contribute to donate to your charity, but completely wrong to compel them to donate. Even moreso if you threatened to imprison them if they don't contribute.

Those who favour a bigger, more involved state might point out that the best way to get important things done which benefit everyone is for everyone to contribute. If everyone benefits from the project it's fair that everyone should contribute.

When considering these issues you can end up asking some big philosophical questions about positive and negative rights. What is more important - a person's right to choose how they spend all of their money, or another's right to live in a fair and equitable society where everyone who can contribute does so?

I've filed this post under Environment rather than Philosophy so I don't intend to get too academic about it. I'm more interested in the practical differences between taxation and charity.

On the one hand the voluntary nature of charity increases one kind of freedom.

On the other, allowing people to avoid contributing to something from which everyone, themselves included, benefits doesn't seem fair.

For a concrete example, in the UK the NHS is a popular institution that has come under increasing strain due to underfunding, the pandemic and creeping privatisation. Partly in response to these issues, there has been a growth in the fundraising of NHS Charities Together. In some ways this is a good thing; people care about a health service that is free at the point of use and supports everyone who needs it. However, it is possible to see how charity funding of the NHS could eventually replace funding through general taxation. Even with enthusiastic backers, it's unlikely that the current level of service could be maintained on voluntary contributions alone. So we'd end up with a much diminished service and more people feeling they needed private healthcare. A lot of people simply wouldn't be able to afford healthcare and would suffer ill health due to the diminished service. This would likely increase inequality and make all those problems worse. The richest in society, while they may be able to afford private healthcare, still benefit from a functioning society and a workforce kept somewhat healthy by a charity to which they might have made no contribution.

Charity is like a tax that selfish people don't have to pay.

This is about the environment, right?

Oh, yes. I've been meaning to get back to that!

Last year, while doing some volunteer tree planting, I got chatting with a guy about environmental issues. He told me,

"I don't want to give up eating meat. I want the goverment to force me to give it up."

That seemed odd - why would he want his choice taken away?

But I realised what he meant. If the government forced him to give up meat, they would presumably force everyone else to do the same, which would have a far greater effect. For the sake of argument we can substitute "give up meat" for "limit flying" or "divest from fossil fuels".

Yes, this takes away individual freedom in the short term. Some people will be disappointed to have lifestyle changes forced on them. On the other hand this mandated collective action is fairer - why should it fall to the most benevolent and selfless individuals to make the effort? An effort that likely won't be enough.

An optional, individual approach might make sense if climate change were a minority interest, something for tree huggers and polar bear fans.

But it's not.

Unfortunately climate change is an exitential threat - something which will affect all of us, the young especially. We can't opt out of living on Earth - everyone needs this planet and everyone affects it, some more than others. Our fates are bound together, whether we like it or not.

Making action on climate optional, only for those especially interested and motivated to act, would mean failing to make sufficient changes to limit the disaster. Such changes have to be decided collectively which preferably means by a democratically elected government or representative citizen's assembly which can make binding recommendations. We must consider the needs of those least able to adapt - a just transition. It will also require government to provide much of the means and infrastructure to live more sustainably.

We can worry about limiting people's freedom with lifestyle changes, but failure to address the climate crisis will severely limit people's freedom and indeed, their lives. Like an underfunded health service relying on charity, voluntary climate action risks being ineffective with catastrophic consequences.

If society is a collective project it has to start from some sort of agreement to collaborate. We can and must discuss the details of that collaboration so that it is as fair as possible, but none of us can be allowed to opt out and no one should be without a voice. Working together has always been essential to humanity's great achievements and it has never been more important.

My experience of the Trans Pyrenees Race No. 2

2022-10-15T21:37:00+01:00

At the rider briefing for the Trans Pyrenees Race, organiser David asked me, and no doubt many others, why I chose to ride TPR. I replied without much thought that I liked climbing hills and wanted a big adventure and challenge. That was true, but on further reflection I'd add that TCR is too far. With family and a lot else going on I would find it hard to commit the time, holiday and energy to the ~4000km Trans Continental Race, but Lost Dot's shorter TPR seems, if not easier, then at least shorter.

Journey to the start

I had chosen not to fly to the start of the race. As someone who campaigns in various ways against climate change, it's easy to be dismissed as a hypocrite for taking even a single flight, unreasonable though that is. So that meant ferry and trains. No problem, I thought, trains in France are generally fast and convenient. However, French workers are also well known for going on strike regularly and I discovered only hours before I was planning to leave the house that my train the next day was cancelled. I don't resent workers for going on strike, it's a necessary part of democracy and probably why France has a more generous welfare state than similar nations. It would be arrogant to say that my race is more important than people's pay and working conditions, but that didn't prevent me feeling stressed about it!

Reassembling the bike at the bus station in Saint Jean de Luz.

Some frantic replanning, grabbing a large bag into which I could stuff my bike and I set off. I was weighed down by said bag and rather flustered. However, the replacement bus I booked did show up and, after 17 hours in pretty cramped conditions wearing a mask alongside coughing passengers, I arrived in Saint Jean de Luz.

I had only a few hours to reassemble the bike and head for registration.

Setting off into the rain

The startline.

On the breezey Atlantic shore, some hours before dawn, I chatted with a few others about to start the race. I was somewhat reassured that many of them felt scared by the prospect as I did. In the anxious moments as the first two waves went off I dithered before putting on my waterproof trousers. Perhaps they would keep me warm enough to go gently for the first few hours.

As my wave set off my main feeling was one of relief. There had been so many COVID-related delays, so much planning, rearranging so much of my life around being able to get to the start, so much help and encouragement from family and friends, not to mention the last minute transport woes. Now I was finally engaged in the simple act of pedalling. I gazed at the line of red blinking lights stretching out ahead of me. Stress and anxiety lifted and I felt gratitude to everything and everyone who had got me here.

The climb to control point 1 (CP1) felt like Wales - damp, leafy and deciduous. Once we crested the col however, we crossed the threshold into another world. We plunged into a steep gorge, great shards of rock hiding in wisps of cloud. The flora seemed slightly tropical, more Ecuador than Wales.

The race had begun.

The Southern route

Climbing to the Spanish border.

I wasn't paying much attention to the GPS tracker of the race, but I understand that a large proportion of the field took shorter, more mountainous routes through France, while I headed South into Spain in line with my plan for the first day. This meant less climbing overall, but it started with a tough climb, higher than I'd ever taken my bike at over 950m. As I and a few others struggled towards the top eagles soared, but below us. Even they thought it was a bit high to be bothered with.

Once over the top the landscape changed again and became drier; it certainly felt like Spain. There was a good sized stream alongside the road, so I stopped for a good long drink using my LifeStraw to filter the water which felt fantastic.

Feeling more like Spain.

For the rest of the day the gradients were mild and the wind was often behind me. The scenery was pleasant, but not dramatic. The mountains always looming in the distance to my left. The roads weren't always quiet, but the Spanish drivers were very careful around cyclists. There are signs everywhere reminding drivers about the law to keep 1.5m away from cyclists when overtaking and the drivers seemed to take it very seriously. I was making good progress too.

Shh, don't tell anyone - I found a flat road!

Food options didn't readily present themselves. When I stopped around 3pm for a late lunch at a bar I was persuaded into a three-course 19-euro meal and thought I might've made a mistake. I've messed up on previous rides by eating too much and getting digestive issues making myself miserable and slow. However, it seems I got away with it, perhaps because my stomach was almost empty by this point.

The only snag on this route was a closed road. No chance of sneaking through as they were building a dam. A brief panic, but the detour took only a couple of minutes.

All in all the first day went very well. I grabbed some pastries from a shop a short time before arriving at the hotel where they were very helpful and understanding about us leaving early. A guy whom I recognised from the start and who had cycled the mountainous route arrived at the same moment. So I hadn't gained any time on him, but maybe he was faster anyway. He did look rather more exhausted than me. I felt I had probably made the right choice going South. 262km done and in bed before midnight.

Reasons for slow progress

After a decent five hours sleep I headed off in the dark the next morning to climb up to the Cotefablo tunnel. I spotted at least one rider sleeping by the roadside, rear light still flashing. I reached the small town of Broto - start of parcours 1 - around 7am to find a thumping loud rave going on! I was glad I hadn't chosen that as my overnight stop. As the sun rose it revealed the parcours' quiet roads and increasingly beautiful scenery. I stopped several times to take photos, forgetting that I was racing and that keeping going is more important than pedalling hard.

Tunel de Cotefablo.

The end of the parcours at Plan felt like a milestone to celebrate. I had seven hours in hand, a tough off-road section ahead and I needed food. I visited a little shop to stock up on nuts and bananas - my two staples - and also made use of a cafe. The latter turned out to be a bit of a mistake. I ordered three small courses, thinking I could eat them fairly quickly and set off gently. However, the food arrived slowly. I didn't mind much at the time as I sat chatting to a few other riders. When I noticed I had been waiting half an hour for ice cream though, I realised this was not good use of my time and I couldn't get it back by riding faster.

The off road section to to Puerto de Sahun was as slow and steep as expected. I walked some of it and probably should've walked more as it wouldn't have been much slower. The violent bumping of my narrow tyres left and right on this and the similarly-rough descent left me and others feeling beaten up and not just in the legs. However I think this route was worth it not just for the views, but the 46km saved, which would've been at least a couple of hours.

For those considering riding the Puerto de Sahun - this is what the surface is like.

Despite general fatigue, I was relieved that so far my knees had not given me much trouble. The previous year, my left one had flared up badly for a while on Pure Peak Grit, but so far on this ride only the occasional twinge. My neck was really sore at times so I tried to massage it and remember to relax my shoulders.

I had intended a long second day, possibly getting close to CP3, but with the above delays it was already rather late, so I messaged some hotels to ask if I could arrive late and leave early and ended up booking one in Sort. Around 222km for the day was less than average, but still felt good given the tough section. Unfortunately another noisy party was going on in Sort with all kinds of classic rock booming across the town, so I took the time to have a shower and was still asleep around midnight.

Not picturesque, but a practical way to dry my socks.

A big push for CP4

Once again I headed out into the dark, knowing I had a big climb ahead of me. On the plus side, by the time I reached the top it would be getting light and this would make the descending easier. Happily this climb turned into a sociable ride as Josh and Eben introduced themselves. Having company was always welcome, especially after spending a long time riding alone. The descent did not disappoint, with smooth roads and gentle enough gradients to really let the bike go.

One of many dramatic sunrises that my photography cannot do justice to.

Much of the time I spent riding alone I would be calculating distances and times in my head, based on the little route sheets I'd made and what my GPS was telling me. It occurred to me that, despite all the technology in the GPS, I was regularly asking it quite a childish question - "Are we nearly there yet?". The answer in this case was that the road route I'd chosen - rightly, if the comments of those who took the second gravel section are anything to go by - gave me plenty of time to get to CP3 by the 2pm cut off. Getting to CP4 by 9am the following day however, was going to be tough. Especially if I didn't manage to find a hotel close enough to make that an easy morning ride. I didn't want to risk getting stuck with a late checkout and too much distance. The uncertainty over finding hotels was continuing to cause me anxiety. In some places there weren't many options.

Looking ahead to the chilly valley before descending into it. On the way to La Seu d'Urgell.

First time in Andorra. The second time was about twenty minutes later as CP3 was just across the border.

I found a hotel just beyond CP4 at Tapis who agreed to stay open late, but I needed to get there by midnight. That would make for a 290km day - my biggest yet. Was that realistic?

In favour of this big day was that it was a relatively flat route I'd chosen, heading North-East through France. Although there was a slight overall climb, progress to Puigcerda was quick and I may have had a slight tailwind. I noticed locals filling bottles from a pipe sticking out of the mountainside, so I took the opportunity for a quick refil as well. After a few hours the riding got tougher and I ended up walking through the very steep village of Llo. There must've been a gentler road around, but this had looked like a shortcut on the map!

Steep shortcut through the village of Llo.

Next the long descent towards Olette began and it was one of the less pleasant parts of the ride for me. Ten percent descent is fine in the UK, but here it continued for 10km; it was so long that my hands and shoulders started to ache. I was forced to stop for a rest and to shake out the tension. There was a precipitous drop to the right side of the road which made me nervous. On top of that the road was busy and while the drivers gave me some space, they were intent on overtaking each other given the smallest of gaps and occasionally honking with impatience. None of this improved my confidence in descending.

Gradually the gradient got shallower, while still providing a good boost to my speed. The issue now was finding food. There were plenty of towns and villages, but it was Sunday and everything seemed to be closed. Eventually I found a McDonald's. Not my first choice, but it was filling and I think it set me up well for a long evening. As that evening progressed, thankfully on peaceful roads, I continually recalculated my arrival time at the hotel. Midnight was looking like a challenge. I'd be annoyed if I arrived late and wasted my booking. However, I was feeling good and steadily increased my pace. If I could keep this up then I should make it on time. I was annoyed when I missed a turning and had to go back, but it probably only cost me a couple of minutes. I phoned the hotel and after working out that the only language we could both speak was French I explained that I would be there "around midnight". I think they said that was OK.

A quiet climb begins at dusk.

On the last climb up to Coustouges I met Oliver. He had ridden the TPR route with a friend last year after the race was postponed. I admitted that I'd found his ride on Strava and used it to help make my own route decisions. We had a chuckle at my Internet stalking and enjoyed the distraction of chatting life and cycling. He hadn't booked a hotel and was seeing what he could find. Happily, when we arrived at my hotel a little before midnight and not only did they have a room for Oliver, they could keep the kitchen open and make us some dinner! When they heard what we were doing the dinner turned out to be free of charge as well!

Take it easy, but not too easy

I was so pleased with having made this long day that I set my alarm late and wasn't out until past 7am. I also took the time to oil my chain which made the bike feel great. As we were getting ready to leave another racer, Nod turned up looking really beaten up. He'd had a run in with a wild boar, which he'd hit at around 51kph in the small hours. He was probably lucky to only have bruises and scrapes, but his bike was in bad shape and probably not safe to ride.

I can see the sea!

The ride down to the Mediterranean coast was relatively easy. Once again I found as I crossed a col I was transported into another world. Suddenly I was among olive groves, vineyards and bamboo; there were cacti beside the road. Even before I could see the sea, it felt like the Med. Several of us spotted a small supermarket and stocked up on pastries, bananas and yoghurt, saving the bananas as they will travel well enough in my back pockets.

Delighted to have found this food!

Almost at the Med, but still another hill to climb for parcours 5!

On reaching the coast, Phare du Cap Bear I felt only a little elation. It was a huge achievement for all of us, but I was very conscious of how far I still had to go and how today was likely to be shorter than I needed. I sat for a little while at the lighthouse eating nuts and checking hotels. There weren't many options at about the right distance. I picked one that would make for a 181km day - some way into the final parcours, but well behind my plan for this stage. After taking a short, but rough route through farmland, I arrived at the hotel to discover some other racers had chosen the same stop. It was a friendly and eccentric place. One of the owners wore a communist beret as he took our card payments, while his partner made the most wonderful tomato salad I have ever tasted. Soft jazz played in the background. I confided in Eben that I thought this place was dangerous - it was so nice we could stay here for days!

Halfway! But still so far to go.

Some kind of fruit growing as well as bamboo. Rare flat roads.

Holm oaks, native to the Mediterranean.

Another col, another world

Now the only time limit was the finish. I had always intended to finish within General Classification (GC). That meant before midnight on Thursday night. It was Tuesday morning and I still had about 650km to do with plenty of huge climbs. So I set myself an ambitious plan and booked a hotel in Bagneres du Luchon, some 280km away. I'd done further than that on previous days, I reasoned, so it should be possible.

Nice quiet village, but no shops open.

After a couple of spooky climbs in the dark, during which I was genuinely freaked out by the sound of deer, I started to enjoy the hills. Col de Pailleres in particular was peaceful and beautiful in the dawn. The green farmland at the bottom, the pleasant shade of the beech woodland and the dramatic views from the top where there was even a little snow on the ground. There was something special about these huge climbs. Looking ahead and trying to predict how the road will wind its way up the mountain and thinking, "Surely I can't be going all the way up there!". Then later looking down a the the road snaking back into the valley so far below, unable to believe how far I'd climbed. That did provide a really visual sense of achievement that is hard to get back home in Britain.

Col de Pailleres

I was taking fewer photos now, but I continued to be awestruck by how beautiful and varied the scenery was. I crossed a col and deer country gave way to flocks of sheep along with the famous Pyrenean mountain dogs protecting them.

In Ascou I bought an ice cream at a campsite and asked where there was a small shop. I was told "Ax-les-thermes, vous devez descend". This was no good. Ax might only be a km or two off-route, but descending deep into the valley would mean a long, arduous climb back out. The day before I had gone off route in search of a supermarket, having been told "C'est pas loin". Indeed an extra 4km round trip isn't far, but I did feel the time adding up.

The climbs weren't impossibly steep, they just went on a very long time. Over time I worked out a rough rule of thumb - a 500m climb would take an hour. This helped with estimation but made me realise how difficult a GC finish would now be. To make matters tougher, food wasn't readily presenting itself, even on a weekday. Shops in small places didn't stay open all day and I'd often arrive shortly after they'd closed and not want to hang around until they opened again. So I would dig into the supply of chewy bars I'd carried with me. This was why I'd brought them, but I knew they wouldn't get me all the way home. At the same time, I didn't want to spend hours searching a town for the ideal nourishment.

Once again I fell back on the reliable MacDonalds where some other participants had congregated. As usual we had some good-humoured chat about how hard the ride was and I had to admit that my 280km day to Bagneres was not going to happen. I cancelled the hotel and lost the money. I didn't know where I was going to stay or how far I could get. A GC finish now seemed like a crazy dream. A French rider I'd spoken with before told me he was aiming for Seix as it was the last place to stay before the long Col de la Core climb. That sounded reasonable, so filled with fast food I set off with that aim vaguely in mind.

At times it felt very hard though and as I crested the Col de Port de Lers I expressed this feeling, moaning first in French and then English to another rider I had assumed was on the ride. "Oh it's hard" I said. He replied, "Yes, but you're doing it!". I have no idea whether he knew exactly what I was doing, but his words stuck with me.

I was doing it.

Col d'Agnes at dusk

As I wound my way slowly up the climbs, doing a lot more mental arithmetic than I had expected, I began to realise I needed a change in mindset to finish this ride. One of my main worries had been not knowing where I would sleep each night. I wanted to have it all planned out perfectly. I had done a lot of research, but dealing with uncertainty is inevitably part of a race like this. At some point I decided I should lean into that uncertainty and see where it got me. Why couldn't I take it as it comes? I'd already seen that climbing and even descending in the dark is fine. OK so you have to go slower on the descents when you can't see so far ahead, but I could still make good progress. The weather still looked good, if chilly at times, but I had packed more clothing than most. I could cope with that. Also I had a space blanket which I could sleep under if necessary. I was tired, but not worn out. This was a small epiphany that brought a little relief and hope with it. If I pushed on, maybe I could get far enough to make a GC finish possible.

With this in mind I decided I could go beyond Seix and cross the Col de la Core at night. There were villages on the other side so something should present itself. If I had to sleep out somewhere for a night, that would probably be OK.

Crossing the Col itself was fine. There were a couple of campervans at the top, probably like me admiring the stars in the clear skies with minimal light pollution. I donned all my warm clothing and descended the other side carefully, all the time looking out for a place to stay. It was past 11pm and I wasn't exhausted, but tired enough to sleep. A quiet village seemed like a good spot and I checked whether their church had the doors open. It didn't so I made use of a wooden bench outside, putting on all my clothing including winter gloves which didn't seem to fit - I realised later that I'd accidentally taken my wife's gloves which explains this!

Making progress

It wasn't a great night's sleep. In spite of the space blanket I was shivering. The bench sloped slightly and I felt I was always rolling off. Still, I think I got a couple of hours and felt good enough to ride again.

As luck would have it as I continued down the road I found a public disabled toilet in the next village. Doesn't sound appealing, but it would've been a great option for me. No one around, space to bring the bike inside, wash, brush teeth use the loo. I did make use of it, but was kicking myself that I hadn't kept looking for longer and had a better sleep.

Col d'Aspin

I lost count of how many cols I climbed that day, but it was around five. On the beautifully-surfaced Col d'Aspin I found some shade and stopped for a twenty-minute nap, which made all the difference. I knew that coming up was the highest point of the race, the famous Col du Tourmalet. I was hoping to get over that before bedtime. It might be a three hour climb/walk. That would make for only a 180km day, but my mental number puzzles suggested that this would be all I could expect to do with so much climbing and that it might, maybe, be enough to make a GC finish possible the following evening. Later in the day, when I was more confident of making it, I booked a hotel. "The Grand Hotel de France" didn't exactly sound like my style, but I didn't have a lot of choice.

The Col du Tourmalet was as long, epic and rugged at the top as expected. I was relieved to get up it in less than two and a half hours, just before sunset - or at least sunset from the top of the mountain which was a bit later than in the valley. Josh and some others were at the top, so I spoke to them briefly as we rushed to put warm layers on before the long descent. As they put their clothes on quicker than me I reflected on another aspect of the race which was not about pedalling fast. I was feeling that every second counted but some of my clothing was a bit of a faff.

Col du Tourmalet

After a fast but tiring descent, I got to the Grand Hotel rather early, around half nine. The check in process was slow as they were also running a restaurant and it was hard to politely explain that I was in a hurry. However, they did quickly make me a wonderful pizza covered in roasted veg which I devoured eagerly.

Race to the finish

When I woke up shortly after 2am my knees were in agony. Stiff and painful, I felt I could hardly move and was coming around to the decision that I would have to scratch from the race. However, after levering myself out of bed and having a bite to eat they eased up and gave me no more trouble whatsoever. Strange, but a huge relief.

I was on the road around 3am and keen to keep going. I had 250km to the finish and 22 hours to do it. There was unexpected drizzle and fog, but it didn't really matter. I knew I had to climb the Col de Soulor and Col D'Aubisque before it got light. The descents would be slow, but so be it. I was pleased to be joined by Lucy who had started in the same wave as me. Conversation with her made the climbs much more enjoyable, especially with the lack of views due to darkness and fog. I spotted a striking black and yellow amphibian on the road near the top of the Aubisque but felt I couldn't afford any time for photos. I was amused at one point to hear a jangling bell as I climbed. In the Pyrenees they put bells not only on cows, but sheep and horses too. The jangle was joined by others and before long I was being seneraded by an untidy orchestra of forty sheep. It was most unusual music, but it entertained me. By the time I descended the other side there was a little light and I became aware of the clouds below and scale of this mountain. I'd been plodding away for hours without much sense of how high I was besides a number on the screen. Now I had a moment to appreciate it.

In the town below I caught up with Josh and asked "Ou est la boulangerie?". He didn't know but agreed it was an important question. Everything seemed to be shut. The descent continued through Eaux Bonnes where we, and I think most riders, missed a subtle right fork. Gah, another five minutes wasted. Eventually I made it to Bielle - a place I had originally thought would be good to spend the last night of the race. A group of French walkers were gathering and I asked them if there was anywhere to buy food. They were very friendly and directed me to a small local bakery where I surprised them by ordering several pastries. Josh was already there! I didn't feel especially competitive with the other racers around me - I wanted to finish and I wanted them to finish too - but it was interesting to measure my progress against them.

As the finish got closer my mental arithmetic intensified. If I could finish the parcours by 8pm that would leave me four hours to complete my 83km route back to Saint Jean de Luz. I knew it would be mostly downhill and on an ordinary day that would be easy enough. I was counting on the last section being easy.

I think I crossed a total of eight cols that day. A week ago I would've considered all of them big climbs, but some were now much smaller than the monsters of previous days. I was aware though, of one last monster. The Col de Soudet would see me gaining 1220m from the town of Arette. Knowing this, I stopped in the town for lunch. The shop was shut for at least half an hour. Luckily I found a bar which provided a large cheese baguette and packet of crisps. A French participant had done the same. At least if he was here at the same time I couldn't be too far off finishing in time, could I?

I managed the col and a couple of others, finishing the parcours before dusk and feeling confident about my GC finish.

The challenges weren't over however. What had looked like flat roads in my planning software still contained significant hills, only hidden by the scale required to show the earlier mountains. I felt I was really trying hard, but barely keeping my average speed up to the 20kph target I'd imagined for this section. Again the jacket and reflective belt had to come on and off, taking more time. The batteries in my backup lights had died and I didn't want to take the time to stop and replace them, so I stuck to my dynamo headlight. This is good and reliable, but only allows me to see about 25m down the road, so sometimes means I have to slow down.

Throughout the ride I'd been aware that friends and family had been watching my GPS track and getting my updates. I liked this and it made me feel less lonely during the quiet times. I'd look down and see the GPS Tracker light flash and be reminded that people were watching and willing me onwards. It was a nice feeling. Now, rushing for the finish I knew everyone would be watching closely. When I missed another turn and headed back some 400m I wondered whether they would notice or whether the update interval was too long. Towns, villages and farms were more frequent now. Many had noisy dogs and in the dark I hoped they were all safely behind gates. I did not want to have to deal with a terratorial pack harassing me. During the day I didn't mind dogs so much. One of the large Pyranean mountain dogs had even barked and bumped into me as I passed. At night however, I was pretty nervous of them. Thankfully they all seemed to be either secure, well trained, or not fast enough to bother me.

I pushed on, giving it all the speed I could. It felt fast. It wasn't.

I became increasingly annoyed about how long it took me to adjust clothing as I warmed up and cooled down.

Then, horror - Route Barree!

Argh! I didn't have time to replan my route, no idea how long a diversion might be. I wasn't sure what to do. It was totally dark and I couldn't see far ahead. In the UK cyclists can often pass through closed roads, so I continued carefully. I was hugely relieved to find only half the road was actually barree and I could pass without a problem. However, I had slightly lost my momentum, my urgency and it took me a while to get going again properly.

As I approached the final 20km on fast flat roads another racer caught up with me. Presumably those watching at home must've seen him on the tracker, but I hadn't been watching regularly. We exchanged friendly greetings and he continued ahead. I could see he was faster than me and I didn't have the energy or motivation to catch him. I told myself the same thing I'd said many times in the past six days - I can only do what I can do; I have to ride my own race. I didn't know we were probably the last two with a chance of finishing within GC. I continued for some minutes with his tail light still in view. He had passed quickly but now didn't look like he was getting away. As I thought this I noticed that my route forked off to the right. He carried straight on, but I had no time to consider which route would be better. All I could do was to trust that I had planned the last part of my ride sensibly - it had mostly been OK so far. The turn took me off the flat main road and over another hill. I muttered some ungrateful words to my former self, wondering whether it would be worth the effort. It's very nice to spin along a flat road when tired, putting in only as much effort as feels comfortable. A hill climb was more work.

Eventually I was within sight of the bright lights of Saint Jean de Luz and allowed myself to believe I would definitely make it in time, though only just! Tired and around some late night traffic for the first time in a while, I took extra care while still keeping up the best pace I could.

Finally I arrived! 6 days, 17 hours and 25 minutes after I'd started, making General Classification with only 20 minutes to spare. The other rider I'd seen earlier, whose name was Ian, arrived about ten minutes later to become lanterne rouge. Depending on how you look at it I was either second to last or 57th out of 150.

At the finish! I just about managed to squeeze my name onto the board.

It was without doubt the most beautiful and hardest ride I've ever done. I can't imagine finding the time or energy to do anything like it again, but that is what I always say, isn't it?

Rest and recovery

In the week that followed the ride I found the sleepiness really caught up with me. I didn't feel any great lethargy during the race, but once I started taking more rest, my body demanded even more. I've been obliging with early nights and naps. As expected I lost some weight, only about 4kg by the time I got home. What surprised me is how hard it was to put that back on. As I've also lost a lot of power - around 50W from my FTP. I'm thinking the weight loss might be partly muscle. It's as if there is 2kg of leg muscle lost in those beautiful mountains! I'm not sure what kind of exercise to do, so I've been gently getting back into cycling, running and bodyweight exercises while spending a lot of time catching up with family. Whatever I do, I think it will be a long road to get back to fitness. I have no idea how people do multiple events of this length in a single year!

TPRNo2 Mediterranean to finish plan

2022-10-03T08:00:00+01:00

After reaching the active control at Phare du Cap Bear on the Mediterranean coast, the only cut-off time riders need to worry about is the finish. Midnight on Thursday night/Friday morning.

Back to the mountains

I've planned a simple route back to rejoin the final parcours - number 6. I should be able to grab some supplies while there are still plenty of shops.

Things get a bit more remote on the way back, so I've made some concise route cards, covering the whole route, noting the distances where I can expect various things. I have this information on my phone, but getting it out while riding is tricky and possibly risky. These clip on between my aerobars and should be easy to read. They are obviously not comprehensive, so I hope I have the info I need.

Parcours 6

The final parcours is over 600km long. In some ways that's a relief as there are no more route dilemmas to think about. All we have to do is follow the line.

The parcours is inspired by the famous "Raid Pyreneen" and has been designed to take in many famous climbs, including the Col d'Aubisque, Col de Soulor and the highest point in the TPR, the Col de Tourmalet.

I've never cycled in the area before, so I don't know what it'll be like climbing these mountains. In the UK it's difficult to find really long climbs. I expect some of these may take me a few hours to get up.

Pacing

Climbing these heights will no doubt slow my average speed. The most mountainous stage involves more than 6000m of ascent in 200km. I do go faster on the descents, but never quite make up the time compared with a flat ride.

If I've completed the first part of the race in the time I hope, then I should have enough time in hand to reduce my daily distance and allow more time for sleep and recovery. Hotel options may be limited and I'm aiming to sleep at relatively lower altitudes for better recovery. Late in the day I will be thinking carefully about whether I want to push on up the next climb when it might be descending in the dark.

UPDATE: I have discovered that descending in the dark is OK, i just need to go slowly. Due to tired hands from braking, I may also need to take breaks!

My outline plan has me finishing about midday on Thursday, with 12 hours in hand. Obviously a lot could change over the 6.75 days of the race to disrupt that plan, but having laid it out I can more easily see whether I'm ahead or behind.

This is my first ultra distance race and if I get to the finish within the time limit I'll be delighted. Even if I don't, then I hope to have some amazing experiences along the way.

Thank you for following what I'm doing and reading this far!

TPRNo2 CP3 to Mediterranean coast route plan

2022-10-02T08:00:00+01:00

This is my plan for the next stage of the Trans Pyrenees Race. It takes me from CP3 at Os de Civis through CP4 at Coustouge to Parcours5 and the active control at the Phare du cap Bear on the Mediterranean coast.

From here on I'm not completely sure what day I'll be where, so the stages will be more fluid.

CP3 to CP4

From Os de Civis, there aren't many options. It's South East through Andorra. This is downhill for quite some way, so progress should be swift.

We won't be in Andorra for long though as we head South back into Spain and back to La Seu d'Urgell and East along a valley that rises gently for 60km.

Probably the last big route dilemma

Here there's an option to head South East into Spain and shave off some 12km. The downside is that this route includes a few off-road tracks and an extra 760m of climbing, so I'm chosing a more Northern route through France. On the map this does take a bit of a dog-leg which is off-putting, however it does look like the most efficient route.

Another advantage of this route is it looks like there are several larger towns in which I could restock. There is a lot less climbing overall on this section so I hope it'll be easier than other stages.

To Coustouges

After following this valley all the way to Lake Vinca, I turn South East and over a relatively small climb into the Tech valley. This meanders South before another gentle climb to passive (unmanned) CP4 at Coustouges. I'll be checking that my GPS tracker is working as I pass through.

We need to make it to Coustouges by 9am on Monday, so if I don't get there on Sunday evening, I'll need to be sure my hotel is close enough and has an early check-out time.

To Parcours5

From Coustouges we cross the border one last time into Spain and head mostly downhill through small towns on a good road, before a long gentle climb back to France and Parcours5. This is a very wiggly route to the coast which should offer plenty of views of the sea and possibly the lighthouse for which we're headed.

We need to get there by 6pm on Monday.

TPRNo2 day two route plan

2022-10-01T04:00:00+01:00

This is my plan for the second day of the Trans Pyrenees Race.

Parcours2

I'm hoping to leave Biescas before dawn to make the most of what is intended to be my longest day of the race. I start with a climb from around 850m to 1435m, so it's going to be a slow first hour. The subsequent descent to the town of Broto should be much quicker. I doubt anything will be open when I get there, so I'll have to make sure I've got some food with me.

From Broto all riders must follow Parcours2 for 69km. It appears to be a small, quiet road through forest and small tunnels chiselled out of the mountainside. I expect it will be beautiful and if it's light I'll probably take some photos.

Riders need to finish Parcours2 by 7pm on Saturday. I hope to be there mid morning giving me plenty of time in hand.

Route dilemma

At the end of the Parcours we arrive in the little village of Plan, which should have food options. However, there's also no road continuing East from here. To get to CP3 in Os de Civis by road, we'd have to retrace our route some 30km and take a large loop to the South. Interestingly, there's also an off-road track which heads East over the mountain through a viewpoint at Puerto de Sahun.

So, is 25km off road faster than 71km on the road? I guess that depends on the gradient and the off-road surface. If it's so rough that I have to push or even carry the bike, it could be very slow. Neither route is flat, but the direct off-road route takes me up to 2025m, almost as high as the high passes later in the race. I've done some research and I'm pretty confident that the track is wide enough for a car and not overly technical. Indeed, cars do drive up the East side, so it can't be that bad. I'm estimating 2 hours for that stretch, which is a little less than the 46km road route.

With that in mind the off-road path is my A route. I've also saved in my GPS the longer B route in case the weather is terrible and I'd prefer to take the road. Making that route while on the bike would be possible, but slow and fiddly, so it's helpful to have the file already programmed in.

To Sort

Back on the road I'm taking the most direct road route I can Eastwards. This passes through El Pont de Suert and Sort, both of which should be good places to resupply. I'll be climbing a series of three mountains, each over 1000m, but with hopefully manageable gradients. I'll then reach the river Noguera Pallaresa, after which it's a gentle gradient of some 12km to Sort.

There are many food and accommodation options in Sort, so depending on the time I may eat here or stay overnight.

Second route dilemma

From Sort there are again two options. Head North and take another 25km off-road route to Os de Civis, or head South-East staying on the road.

This time I'm planning to stay on the road. The off-road section is no doubt ridable, even on my road touring tyres, but parts of it look really steep and possibly technical, meaning that I'd be very slow. There's also a chance I'd be doing this in the evening as it's getting dark, making it even harder. I have good lights, but not huge mountain bike floodlights. I think this 25km off road section could take three hours in the daylight.

The second reason for me taking the road route is that once I'm over the 1712m mountain SW of Sort, there are plenty of hotels to choose from. Due to uncertainty over how far I'll get, I'm not able to book everything in advance, so having plenty of options here feels good. I may stop somewhere around La Seu d'Urgell, but it will depend on how I'm feeling.

The road route is only 21km longer, so that's my plan A.

CP3 - Os de Civis

Os de Civis is close to the border with Andorra and it'll be my first time in this little country. The control in Os is at an altitude of 1489m, so it'll be a slow climb to get there. It's also an "active" control meaning there will be people to talk with and stamp my brevet card. We need to get there by 2pm on Sunday.

TPRNo2 day one route plan

2022-09-30T06:10:00+01:00

As I set off on the Trans Pyrenees Race I thought I'd share some of my route planning for this first section. I've given it a lot of thought and spent a lot of time staring at maps with the help of RideWithGPS and Komoot.

I need to average about 230km per day in order to make it to the finish in time to qualify for General Classification.

There should be about 11 hours of daylight each day during the ride. I know I'm faster during daylight, even though I have good lights, so I'm aiming to be moving early to make the most of it. As I probably need to ride at least 12 hours every day, I will have to do some crepuscular cycling as well. I'm planning the trickier sections for during daylight hours.

Start Parcours

For the first 26km, everyone has to follow the same route. This gets the race safely out of town without too much hassle.

CP1

From the end of the Start Parcours, it's about 42km to CP1 at the top of the Col d'Ispeguy. There seems to be a single obvious route to take here, so I don't expect much deviation from that, unless I've missed some daring shortcut!

It's a significant climb to CP1, so this will be a good test of the legs ahead of the much larger ones later in the race. Still, I'm not used to climbs this long. The longest climb I've ever done is probably 625m up Great Dun Fell as part of the Knock Ventoux 300km audax.

The control closes at 3pm which should be enough time for everyone to get there.

CP1 to Parcours2

This is where it gets interesting. It's over 200km to Parcours2 and even with the limited roads through the mountains, there are at least two very different options. One route goes directly East, through France then South over the spine of the mountain range. The other heads South through Spain and mostly follows the valley until the last few kms. The French route is 24km shorter, but has about 1500m more climbing.

I've chosen the Spanish route which is much flatter. I'm hoping this will be quicker and less demanding. It will be interesting to see which riders choose which route.

I'm planning to stop on Friday night about 26km short of Pc2 in a place called Biescas, where there are plenty of hotels and places to eat. My route puts that 262km from the start, so I'll have a fairly long first day. Starting at sea level, it will involve more climbing than descending which will also slow me down, but I hope to get to bed early enough that I can set off before dawn the next day.

My Kit List for Trans Pyrenees Race No. 2

2022-09-21T18:08:00+01:00

The famous sponsored riders on rides like TCR seem to take so little with them, but for safety and reliability, I've packed a little more.

The Trans Pyrenees Race involves more climbing than most, so this should be a reason to keep kit minimal and weight down. However, all the climbing involves a wider variety of weather. In dry conditions, the temperature drops 1 deg C for every 100m climbed, so I want to make sure I can continue safely even when the weather closes in.

Some riders carry less clothing than me, but take a bivvy bag to allow overnight camping in a wide variety of locations. I am opting for hotels which limits my options for overnight stops, but makes the bike a little lighter.

Rather than endurance racing tyres which I think most people will use, I've chosen Schwable Marathon Greenguard fast touring tyres which I hope will give me reliability with enough speed. They're the reason I'm only packing one spare inner tube.

All the kit on the bike

Everything packed onto the bike, little of it sticking out to the sides for reduced drag.

Aerobar dry bag

Voile strap
Small carabiner
Paramo Velez waterproof jacket with hood
Endura waterproof winter gloves
Gore waterproof trousers
Showers Pass waterproof overshoes

Apidura top tube bag, mounted against seatpost

No photo, but this bag contains my phone, waterproof phone case and a face mask.

Apirdura frame bag

LifeStraw to filter water
2 Huel bars
Zip tie
Toilet paper
Space blanket
Mini-USB GPS power cable
Fenix HM23 1xAA head torch (can be attached to helmet)
Cloth for wiping chain
Spare gear cable
RAV power backup battery 6700mAh
Squire combination lock

Apidura expedition saddle bag, 14L

Patagonia thin fleece with hood
Spare cycling shorts
Thin balaclava
Spare buff
Briefs for off the bike
First aid kit
More toilet paper
Gerber knife and pliers
Endura merino socks
Helly Hansen long sleeved base layer
Gore arm warmers
Leg warmers
Small foldable backpack
ProViz reflective belt
Protein bars, 3 Misfits, 3 PhD Smart
2 Huel bars
Phone charging cable
USB splitter cable
USB phone-GPS cable
Spare rear light, 1xAA
AA battery charger
Spare AA batteries for lights and GPS
EU USB charger 2.1/1Amp + cables
Chamois cream
Sudocrem, in case I don't have permission to crem ;-)
Toothbrush and solid toothpaste tabs
Micropore tape
Supplements - Spirulina and vegan omega 3
Ear plugs
Medical creams
Emergency painkillers (Ibuprofen and Paracetemol)

Clothes peg
Reflective ankle bands

Topeak bottle cage repair kit, mounted below downtube

Topeak micro rocket pump
2 tyre levers
Chain oil
Small velcro straps
Spare inner tube
Spoke key
Self adhesive patch kit
Tweezers to remove sharp bits from tyres
Latex gloves
Puncture repair kit
Spare chain link (inside repair kit)
Multi-tool
Fabric tape
Zip ties

Other kit stored on bike or self

2 spokes (290mm) for front wheel or rear non-drive side
Fenix LD-22 front light, 2xAA
Garmin eTrex 30 GPS, 2xAA
Polar map trap for route notes
Plastic wallet on lanyard for documents and money

What is the Trans Pyrenees Race?

2022-09-17T09:00:00+01:00

What is the Trans Pyrenees Race?

The Trans Pyrenees Race is a self-supported multi-day cycling race across the Pyrenees. It is the little sister of the Trans Continental Race (TCR). Both are run by Lost Dot. I've entered the second edition which has been postponed since 2020. It is often abreviated to TPRNo2. It starts on Friday 30th September 2022.

The race involves cycling from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean Sea and back. It's about 1500km over 6.75 days.

About 150 riders have entered, aging from 23 to 66. Most are solo riders but there also six pairs.

What are the rules?

TPR is self-supported, meaning riders cannot make use of facilities that are not available to everyone. We don't have to be totally self-sufficient; hotels and shops are open to everyone. On the other hand there are no support vehicles allowed which makes for a more level playing field for amateurs like me. Phoning a friend and asking them to find the nearest bike shop for you is considered unsporting. If you help another rider, say by giving them a spare inner tube, then they have to hand you their race-validating "brevet card" indicating that they're pulling out of the race.

There's no "Drafting" - cycling close behind another rider to benefit from reduced air resistance, apart from for those riding as Pairs, which is a different category.

The route is defined by a series of control points (CP) and Parcours (Pc) - the latter being a stretch of road which must be ridden, rather than a single point to pass through. Most of these have cut off times that must be reached to finish within "General Classification", which is my aim.

The Control Points and Parcours for TPRNo2

Riders are free to plan their route through those control points however they wish, as long as they don't break local laws, say by riding the wrong way up a one-way street. A big part of the challenge is planning your own route and thinking carefully about food, water and accommodation.

Apart from that there's an agreement to race with a spirit of fair play.

The race is run by staff and volunteers at some of the controls. It is tracked by GPS with each rider carrying a tracker which regularly updates their position. There are also online "dotwatchers" who will be checking on riders for safety and compliance with the rules.

Why am I riding it?

As a personal challenge and adventure. I haven't entered a real race before, but I've done plenty of long bike rides and written here about why I find that enjoyable. I've no doubt there will be a fair bit of "type-2 fun" involved, but I hope to bring back some amazing memories as well.

What is your strategy?

It's frowned upon to share route and strategy before the race itself, so I'll be publishing a series of blog posts as I go along, giving more detail of my thinking during planning. I'll write these before I start - if I get time! It will be interesting to see how my plans turn out and how they differ from others.

Where do you hope to finish?

I hope to finish! I may look at the tracker myself during the race and get a little competitive if things are going well, but my main aim is to finish within General Classification (GC). Enthusiasts often talk about the "race within the race", where the riders at the back enjoy some friendly competition with each other.

How do I watch or find out more?

You can be a casual "dotwatcher" too. The official TPR website will have details and, nearer the start, a link to the GPS tracker where you will see all riders on the map. You can click on the rider dots for more information.

There will also be some race updates on social media.

Instagram: https://instagram.com/transpyrenees

Twitter: @transpyrenees

Once my cap number is known (around 29th September), there will be a hashtag associated with it on Instagram and Twitter, so you could search for photos of me in particular. It's likely that there will be more official photos of the leaders, however!

For example: "#TPRNo2cap001 for Solo Rider with cap No.1"

Update!

Read my full report of how the race went for me here.

Should you change careers to become a software engineer?

2022-03-25T21:10:00+00:00

A lot has changed in the last few years and as a result many people are reconsidering their career options. I have a few years experience as a software engineer and my wife made a career change from law to software a decade ago with my encouragement. If you're considering a move into software engineering, I have some ideas that you may find useful.

What kind of person makes a good software engineer?

I say "Software Engineer" rather than programmer or coder as there is more to the job than coding. As well as writing code an engineer will need to understand customer requirements, collaborate well with other engineers and explain any issues in non-technical terms. Not all engineers are good at all of this, so teams need to have diverse skills.

As a result, good software engineers must have good communication skills and be generally well-organised. Being organised is of course useful for any job, but disorganised engineers make hellish, unmanageable code very quickly. There are tools to help with this, but they still require some discipline to use properly.

The coding itself requires attention to detail and some patience. You do not need to be a mathematician to be a good coder unless the domain you're working in is inherently mathematical, like integrating the inputs from aeroplane wing sensors. Some mathmeticians do make very good coders and so do some linguists.

You do need to keep learning as you go. Software development doesn't stand still. Even if you get a degree in software engineering, which isn't necessary to be good at the job, you'll still need to learn new technologies as things develop.

An inquisitive mindset

One word of warning before trying some coding: Code almost NEVER works first time. You type it in, you think you've done everything right and it falls over in a heap.

For a newbie this can be very disheartening. However it is part of the process; those of us with more experience still don't write working code first time, we just get used to it failing. I have more than 20 years experience and it's rare that anything I write works first time. It still causes imposter syndrome sometimes. But debugging broken code is a big part of the job. If you can view it not as a personal failure, but an intriguing mystery to solve, then you have mastered an important skill.

Coding is not the same job every day. It's not repetitive, handle-turning labour. It's thinking through how something should fit together. How should it be named so that the next person understands what it does?

Sometimes finding and fixing a bug requires diving into a rabbit hole of unfamiliar code. You'll be checking values at various points to eliminate possible causes along the way. Gradually you can narrow down the problem to a couple of lines. Sometimes, only then can you see the problem. Often hours or days of investigation result in a one-line fix.

If you see all that as an exciting geeky whodunnit, then you'll probably love software engineering.

Again, being organised, using the best tools and having your code fully covered by unit tests makes all this a lot easier.

What language should you learn?

This question might seem really significant and difficult to answer without causing controversy. Every coder has their favourite languages. If you've learnt three programming languages you can probably read any programming language. There is much more similarity between them than there is between natural languages. For example, you could learn five European languages and it wouldn't be much help understanding Chinese. But if you learn some C++ and Python, then Java is going to be easy to understand.

If you're at the stage of considering a career change, it matters more than you try some coding in any language, to see if you like it. Rather than picking one at random and aiming to become an expert, I'd suggest finding some beginner tutorials online in a handful of languages so you can compare. The similarities and differences will help you understand what coding is about.

You can look up on the web which languages are most used in the real world so you don't pick something utterly obscure that isn't at all useful.

My suggestions to try would be any of Python, SQL and JavaScript. At least one of these languages is likely to be found in 95% of software engineering jobs.

Python is often recommended as a beginner's language and it's used seriously in industry from healthcare to NASA. It's easy to automate tedious tasks and get things done quickly and Python runs on a wide variety of platforms.

SQL, pronounced either "sequel" or "ess-kew-ell" (life's too short to argue about which is correct), stands for Structured Query Language and is widely used to access and manipulate data in databases. That's all it does though, it isn't a general-purpose language.

JavaScript runs in nearly every web browser and is responsible for controlling the dynamic aspects of web pages. To make easier to create complicated user interfaces as seen on social media sites, there are a number of frameworks which sit on top of JavaScript like React, jQuery and NodeJS. This give a lot of features, but are another thing to learn and re-learn when it is updated.

I may be biased, but my favourite is Python. I think it is one of the easiest languages to learn while being useful in the real world in many different situations.

Some links if you want to give Python a try:

Dive Into Python is a free online book, good as it tells you how to install Python from scratch, but doesn't have videos, etc that some people like for learning.
Codecademy is a bit more course-like structure to hold your hand through the early stages, but shouldn't take too long.
If you get through that and are hungry for something more with some kind of certificate to show for it, then Coursera has lots of good stuff (often for free) with videos and exercises, but it takes a lot longer.

Self-sufficiency

2022-02-21T15:14:00+00:00

When I rode my first audax in 2013, I had only the vaguest idea of the philosophy of this under-appreciated form of cycling. Is it a set rules about not cheating by getting a train? Does it mean fixing your own punctures? The Audax UK website says, "navigate for yourself and if you do have any mechanical problems along the way, it's down to you to sort them or get yourself home".

Audax is a broad church and people are encouraged to approach the challenge of a long bike ride in their own way. Ride quickly and take long breaks to recover or make steady progress stopping only long enough to get the brevet card stamped and down a quick coffee? It's up to you. No one bats an eyelid at the wide variety of bikes in motion. But one thing is consistent; the culture of self-sufficiency which is central to audax. Those who've ridden sportives will find many familiar elements missing. There are no arrows guiding you around the route. There's no broom wagon to sweep up riders whose bikes or legs give up. Why is that a good thing?

For one thing, it makes the sport more affordable. Any comfortable, reliable bike will do. If most riders had a support crew ready to provide new wheels or refreshments, that would set them apart from the rest who couldn't afford that or persuade family to help. Audax isn't competitive and finish times are not published, but there is a camaraderie in knowing that others are experiencing the same challenge as you. Secondly, the lack of infrastruture makes rides easier to organise. With no signage or support vehicles, an all-day audax can be run by a couple of volunteers. This keeps costs down to a tiny fraction of a sportive.

For me though, the best thing about self-sufficiency is the way it allows you to own your achievements. Completing an audax is never certain, but those who succeed frequently have to do more than point the bike in the right direction and pedal. The challenge includes planning, navigation, bike maintenance and compromises between carrying spare clothing and food or saving weight to make climbing hills easier. If you can't fix your bike, how far will you need to walk to catch a train? Can you walk that far in your cycling shoes? When you solve these problems for yourself, rather than paying for a solution to be handed to you, the achievement of completing the ride, in spite of difficulties, is richer.

Not only that, but it brings a deeper understanding of how dependent we are on the support of others.

Leave only footprints; take only pictures

This philosophy is also seen in self-supported racing, famously in the Trans Continental Race. Taking outside help is strictly against the rules. Buying food from a shop is allowed, but anything which is not available all competitors, such as sleeping at a friend's house en-route, would be cheating. This means the prizes can go to any determined and well-organised rider rather than only those who have a paid support team attending to their every need.

The GB Duro race has gone further, with an ethos which emphasises sustainability even going beyond the bikepacking pricinple to "leave no trace". Flying to the start of the GB Duro is not allowed and "riders (ride) the whole route in a single stage carrying all their food/not using commercial services including accommodation and carrying all their non-biological waste with them to the finish". They say this is self-sufficient, rather than self-supported. I find much to admire about this ethos, not simply for the small reduction in the competitors' carbon emissions but for the way it gets people thinking. But is this really self-sufficient? How far can you go down this route?

In addition to carrying all my food with me, I could make it myself, cooking up a load of flapjacks, say. But I didn't grow the oats myself and I've no idea where the golden syrup came from. Similarly, I can build my own wheels, but I can't build a hub or mine the iron to make the bearings and spokes. I'm necessarily dependent, at some stage, on an industry that makes bikes and replacement parts like chains and tyres. Even if I opted for a simpler sport - walking - I'd be relying on people to grow crops to make my food and clothing or those who make maps and those who taught me how to navigate.

Before long you find yourself at the Carl Sagan quote:

“If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.”

Does that mean that self-sufficiency doesn't matter?

I don't think so.

Understanding our dependencies

Although perfect self-sufficiency is not possible, the journey towards it is enlightening and humbling. Only when you try to go without something do you realise how important it is.

Modern culture often encourages us to think of ourselves as individuals; separate from others and entirely responsible for our own success or failure. This may be the influence of the Stoic philosophers on Western thought. The Stoics emphasised personal virtue at the expense of acknowleding our relationships to other people and the world around us. Long distance cyclists may feel an affinity for certain stoic ideas while the rain is lashing down into their faces. Certainly, Marcus Aurelius's words seem apt:

"You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength."

So perhaps it is surprising that my attempts at self-sufficiency have lead me to a frank realisation that I am deeply connected and dependent on the world in which I live. Trying to go without things which I took for granted made me appreciate them. In some cases I realised that certain creature comforts are not so important. I think we're all inclined to use the phrase "I can't live without..." a little too often. Yet I discovered I can leave the house without a full breakfast. I don't need to shampoo my hair every day. Even sleep can be flexible in the short term. Those small discoveries were interesting.

What was really surprising was noticing what I genuinely can't live without. Food, water, shelter. Needs which are easily met for most of us in the rich world. So easily that we consider them automatic, or we don't consider them at all. Although I can't live without these things, neither can I provide them directly for myself. I might be able to buy them if my work is valued, but I'm dependent on systems - be they natural or human - to provide what I need to live, let alone thrive.

I think we should all be mindful of this. We all accept outside help. None of us pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps. John Donne's words are remembered centuries later because they are an important reminder of this.

"No man is an island entire of itself"

So I think there is value in trying to be more self-sufficient, as long as we remember to acknowledge we are still supported in many, often invisible, ways.

To misquote Newton - if I have cycled further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.

Hope, despair, escapism and meaning

2022-01-03T21:30:00+00:00

Lately I've been thinking about how I spend my time.

Call it a mid-life crisis or an effect of working from home and having a more flexible routine. Whatever the reason, how we spend our time seems like a fundamental question of personal philosophy.

To try and make sense of this, I roughly categorise my activities, with a lot of overlap, as follows.

Entertainment - A sliding scale from eating chocolate and watching comedy (type 1 fun) through to cycling an excessively-challenging route (type 2 fun).
Life admin - Work, brushing my teeth, paying bills.
Connecting with people - Family, friends, colleagues, strangers.
Personal projects - House/garden DIY, blog writing, coding, bike maintenance.
Campaigning/activism - Volunteering, writing to my MP, signing petitions, working as a local councillor, protesting.

How much time should I spend on each of these? What is a healthy balance?

There's a compromise to be struck between simple happiness and life satisfaction, or meaning. I've read that a good example is having children - this typically makes parents unhappy through sleepless nights, ill health and inevitable worries, but in the long run adds a great deal of purpose to their lives.

I recognise that I'm privileged to even be able to make these kinds of choices rather than simply surviving. Having time for personal projects or being able to campaign for anything is a luxury that many cannot afford. No doubt a lot of people would say they've only got time to work, eat, sleep and do the bare minimum of entertainment to stay sane. The fact that I'm fortunate seems like even more reason to think carefully about how I spend my time.

Boredom and escapism

Everyone will have their own idea of what their healthy balance is. Some will focus on doing as little work as possible to make time for their own entertainment. When I became disillusioned with my first job, I had a lot of sympathy for this view. Work didn't feel worthwhile; often it was utterly boring. I felt I had to use my time outside of work to compensate for that boredom, just to make life feel somewhat enjoyable. I wasn't looking for any grand purpose in my life, simply to have as much fun as I could. I wasn't taking drugs or engaging in other risky behaviour for the rush of it, but you might call it "lightweight hedonism" or simply escapism. I imagine that a lot of people in dull or stressful jobs do the same.

With some luck and hard work a lot of people can afford a pretty happy life, in spite of a dull job. I'm lucky to have found more fulfilling work in recent years, but I still wouldn't say I'm passionate about work.

Despair at the state of the world

Meanwhile, most of us will have noticed that not everyone is so lucky. There are a lot of important things going wrong in the world. Child labour, racism, the rights to protest being eroded, a health service under acute pressure, an ongoing mental health crisis, air pollution, biodiversity loss, climate change and the global injustices it brings.

As you look into any of those issues and discover the many, often related, problems in the world, it can feel overwhelming. I'm sure many people want to help resolve those problems, but find trying to do so is frustrating. Where should we start? Are we making progress? These broad question are valid, but can prevent focus and lead to despair.

This despair is even encouraged by some. Climate science is generally accepted; doubting it is no longer mainstream. As a result former climate deniers have had to switch tactics. Those who would like to slow or prevent constructive action, say by reducing the use of fossil fuels, now focus on spreading doomism, apathy and inaction.

I heard an analogy about learned helplessness which I think is instructive. When elephants are kept to help with work, they start training them from their early years. This includes tethering the elephant to a metal stake in the ground. The young elephant soon learns it cannot shift this stake, so it gives up trying and accepts being restrained. As the elephant grows to adulthood it becomes incredibly strong and gains the strength to easily uproot the stake and go where it pleases, but it never does. It has learned that it is helpless and cannot free itself. This is not unlike our human feelings of helplessness in the face of social and political problems.

In the face of despair, a more constructive response combines hope and action.

Even those who don't fully buy into the despair may be tempted to look away, to minimise the issues, get on with their lives, and resort to "soft denial". That's understandable, given the scale of the problems. To some extent I think everyone engages in soft denial at times. It's hard to constantly stare into the harshest realities of the world without becoming exhausted or burning out. When progress is hard to measure it's easy to feel helpless and disillusioned.

No regrets?

As I've grown older I've become disillusioned with the disillusionment.

To put it another way, I've recognised that the disillusionment itself is a big part of the problem. Those who would like to maintain the status quo benefit from our cynicism and despair. Saying, "It's hopeless" can be an excuse for inaction. Giving up and falling back into escapism can feel comfortable. Author Rebecca Solnit talks about "snatching the teddy bear of despair from the loving arms of the left". For those who are comfortable, she argues, despair should not be embraced as a means to stop trying. This is not to be confused with occasionally looking away, to rest your eyes. Relaxation and entertainment are part of self-care - important ways to recharge and regenerate, but in excess, they become a tempting distraction from dealing with important issues.

When Donald Trump had been in office for three years, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was asked what she thought the greatest threat to democracy was. The crowd chuckled knowingly, hoping she'd say something scathing about the president. Instead she answered

"A public that doesn't care about protecting the rights we have".

It is easier not to care, or to assume that someone else will right the wrongs and keep us safe. That feels to me like a dangerous complacency in the face of the issues I described above.

So, I feel I want something more than escapism, more than distraction from the stress and worry of the world. Sure, I can enjoy various forms of entertainment and have a pretty happy life. I can't help wondering though, that if I spend all my free time in films, music, sports and games, am I really part of the world at all? Those things are nice and sometimes reflect reality, but they're not reality. Even things like mortgages and DIY don't feel ultimately important. They're another kind of game. If I spend most of my time in escapism or simply on the treadmill of capitalism, in what sense does my existence matter? Wouldn't I be just another consumer, earning money and spending money?

Perhaps that's overly simplistic.

Of course there is already more to my life than this. I'm lucky to have great family and friends and I can do my best to appreciate them and make their lives better. There is meaning in that for me, without doubt.

Enough?

I've started wondering whether I'm an active part of the world or merely an observer? Am I changing the world, however slightly, for the better or passively existing in it for a while?

I want to leave the world a better place than I found it. Perhaps this is an overreach of the Boy Scout Rule which I think most people apply to tidying up the campsite or code, but it feels like a very reasonable thing to apply to my life as a whole. Could my whole life make the world a better place on average?

It's an appealing idea.

The trouble is that it's pretty difficult to live by. Due to the way our society is arranged, it is hard for those of us living in the rich world to live ethically and not to do harm to others. That harm might not be obvious. The global economy hides much of it from view. Some of those harmed may be on the other side of the world working in a sweatshop or suffering from climate breakdown due to decades of excessive consumption in the rich world. If I want to think of myself as, overall, a good person then I need to make a positive difference in some way.

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." - Edmund Burke

Even if I can't be certain that the difference I make will be enough, whatever that means, I feel that I need to try, simply because it is the right thing to do. Of course I want the best outcomes and to feel that I've made a difference, but getting too attached to outcomes for these huge issues can be a real drain on energy. I think it's better to stay focused on doing the right things, as far as I can.

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has." - Margaret Mead

I sometimes wonder how I'll feel about my life looking back on it in later years. Will I feel I spent my time well or regret what I didn't do? In particular, I don't know how well humanity will address climate change, arguably the greatest threat modern humans have ever faced. Whatever happens, I want to feel I did what I could, when I still could.

Perhaps it's over-ambitious of me to wonder if there could be more to my life than this? But I also ask myself "Why shouldn't I make a difference?". I may not be sure how much difference I can make, how much effort I'll feel able to give, but doing something is better than doing nothing.

As everyone from Hillel the Elder to John F. Kennedy to Emma Watson have said,

"If not me, who? If not now, when?"

Touring tyres vs Randonneur tyres

2021-09-25T13:10:00+01:00

Following on from my previous real-world tyre experiments, I finally got around to a more thorough test.

As before I tested Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm tyres against Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm tyres. One of the Michelins had been used for a couple of hundred kms, but the other three were new.

The Schwalbe Greenguards are one of the faster popular commuting/touring tyres and very good value. They have a wire bead and significant tread depth, so are the heavier and tougher of the two. The Michelins are very popular among audaxers as being a bit faster than the old favourite of Continental 4Seasons while still having good protection and grip.

Once again I used 3km climb up "Road hill climb" through Ditteridge. I considered only the uphill part of the ride as the descents are very variable due to unexpected traffic and how much braking I decided to do. I didn't brake at all on the climbs.

The main difference this time was that I repeated the climb five times which each pair of tyres at the same pressure. I chose 55PSI front and 65PSI rear as this seemed to be the best pressure from the previous test.

Route: 3.2km climb up "Road hill climb" through Ditteridge. I didn't measure the descent as it depends more on wind resistance.

Power: 200W average. A power I can consistently and repeatedly produce for the time it takes to climb this hill.

Wheels: Both tyres changed.

Measurement: The total lap time for climbing the hill. With consistent power this should show any differences in the drag of the set up.

Possible confounding factors

See previous test

Results

Tyre	Lap power	Lap time
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	198	00:12:35
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	199	00:12:33
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	199	00:12:29
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	200	00:12:40
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	199	00:12:25
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	199	00:12:24
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	199	00:12:04
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	199	00:12:13
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	198	00:12:16
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	199	00:12:15

Results	Time
Av. Marathon Greenguard	00:12:32
Av. Pro4 Endurance	00:12:14
Difference	00:00:18
Time difference over 100km (uphill)	00:10:00

An 18 second difference over 3km uphill is equivalent to a 10 minute difference over 100km uphill. I'm going to assume that most 200km rides are circular and therefore 50% uphill and that the speed difference downhill is negligible. So I think we can perhaps say an extra ten minutes on a 200km ride with the Schwalbe Marathon Greenguards. That's well within the nautral variation or noise when I ride a 200km. If I did the same route on different days it could easily vary by 30 minutes, so it would be hard to tell. Also, the estimate might be slightly off as I would normally produce less than 200W all the way around a 200km.

Conclusions

I'm happy that the results are clear cut which seems to further validate the testing method. There's clearly a fair bit of noise, with up to 15 seconds difference between runs with the same tyres, but the Michelin results were all ahead of the Schwalbe ones.

The Michelin Pro4 Endurance is at the durable end of "fast" road bike tyres, and Bicycle Rolling Resistance reports a drag of 14.2W in laboratory conditions.

The Schwalbe Marathon Greenguards are at the faster end of touring tyres. They are tough. I've only had one puncture in the 13500km the last set lasted and that was in Chiltern flints when a shard the size of one of my teeth embedded itself. They are not quite as puncture resistant as the Marathon Plus (25.5W), but they roll much better, BRR says they use up 21.3W of power each.

21W vs 14W is about an extra 50% more power for the Schwalbes, so I had expected the time difference to be larger, especially considering that the Schwalbes are heavier which would slow me down on a climb. However, even 43W (2x21.3) is only a little over 20% of the 200W I was putting out, so most of the power is going elsewhere - potential energy when climbing and wind resistance.

So if we're only considering overall speed on a long ride it's not an easy decision which tyres to use. In my experience, on the roads I ride, the Michelin Pro4 Endurance puncture about once every 1000km. That usually takes me 20 minutes to fix if it's dry and daylight, but can be much longer sometimes and forces me to carry several spare tubes. So on a 200km ride in good conditions I'd expect to be faster with the Michelins, unless I get a puncture in which case I'll definitely be slower, but that would only happen 1 in 5 rides.

Using the Schwalbes, punctures happen "almost never", so even on a long ride I'd only carry one spare tube, reducing the weight penalty a bit. I like being confident in the tyres when descending or travelling over bad surfaces. Punctures are a nasty surprise at the best of times, but when it's 11pm and I'm up a Welsh mountain in the rain, it is at best demoralising and at worst leaves me dangerously exposed in the elements. So I'm happy to trade a bit of speed for a lot of reliability. When I take into account the fact that Schwalbe Marathon Greenguards are relatively inexpensive and last at least twice as long as faster tyres, they make a lot of sense to me.

Pure Peak Grit solo

2021-08-29T21:16:00+01:00

At the end of August 2021 with other plans postponed I decided to ride the Pure Peak Grit route.

I found this ride hard, somewhere around Mille Cymru or TINAT-hard, maybe harder. I made a few mistakes that made it harder for me than it needed to be, which I'll get onto. I have massive respect for the few people who've done this ride in about 36 hours. I had naive notions that I might be able to get close to those times which soon fell by the wayside as you can see from my Strava track.

This was fairly typical.

It was also very scenic, well perhaps not the first few km which took me through the back of Buxton and along a rough B road which was surprisingly busy for 6.15am. But soon I was out in the peaceful lanes I had expected. Slowed down by the first climb I was happy I could make up time on the inevitable descent. But as soon as the road sloped downwards, the surface turned to gravelly loose chippings, narrow and steep. I had to take it very carefully through the tight corners. Another descent had cobblestones, so I had to take that carefully as well. This was much slower than my usual rides and I was struggling to maintain the 17kph, which had seemed reasonable.

No rain had been forecast, so unusually for me I had removed mudguards and left the waterproof shoe covers at home. As it started to drizzle I wondered if this had been a mistake, but it stayed light enough to be refreshing.

The first big climb I remember was the Cat & Fiddle. It didn't feel steep, but it did carry on into the sky. I lost count of the number of false summits. Every time I climbed over a ridge and round a corner I'd look across the valley and see cars striking a diagonal line across the hillside. Oh. I'm going up there.

Pub at (or nearly at) the top of the Cat and Fiddle climb.

I didn't have an easy view of the upcoming gradients. My GPS can do this and Erica had appreciated it on our recent trip to Cornwall. However she had been on the back of the tandem with no need to look at the road. Riding solo I needed to keep a lookout for bad surfaces and sudden bends. I thought a gradient plot would be an extra distraction.

As I descended over the many hills, I noticed a regular bump bump bump, even on smooth roads. A bit of a worry and not what my backside wanted. It was about time for my first stop which I'd planned at least every four hours. It was a local shop that I'd marked with a pin on the map. After scoffing a felafel wrap and brownie I had a look at my rear wheel. As suspected, the recently refitted tyre had a "low" point where the tyre bead hadn't quite seated on the rim, but got stuck lower down. The effect was subtle which may be why I didn't spot it on my shakedown ride. Luckily by part-deflating the tyre and manipulating it up into place, I got it fixed.

As is often on long rides my internal jukebox went through a variety of involuntary tracks, some because I'd heard them recently, others triggered by something I'd seen. Dodgy's If you're thinking of me, U2's Miami, Depeche Mode's Enjoy the silence, First Aid Kit's EmmyLou, The Divine Comedy's Freedom Road...

Well, why not?

As day wore into night things got harder, as they usually do. For a start nowhere is open for food and water refills, but I managed that as usual by carrying enough. A churchyard tap somewhere near Bakewell provided water when I needed it.

What slowed me down most was lack of visibility. I do have a good, reliable front dynamo light with a shaped beam meaning I can always see the road 30 or 40m ahead. But for fast descents when the road appears suddenly out of the gloom, this isn't quite enough. I can see a pothole in time to avoid it, but its really useful to be able to look a few hundred meters ahead. If there's a small rise coming up I'll let the brakes off and pick up speed knowing I'll safely slow down anyway. But if it drops off suddenly then I'll brake early in case the surface gets sketchy. This isn't possible without good visibility so I had no choice but to slow down. I did also take a round beamed battery light which can throw light a lot further, but it's very dazzling and annoys oncoming traffic. I have to remember to shade it which is hard to do at times when I want both hands for braking. All of which grumbling meant I was slower at night.

My plan was to take a proper break at least every four hours, but not sleep over the night. I had previously ridden through the first night of PBP which felt fine, but that started in the evening. As I tiredness built up and I got slower I realised a nap might be what I needed. Some time around 3 or 4 am I found a convenient bus shelter in a very quiet village with space for my bike and, thankfully, a wooden seat. I put on all the clothing I had with me - merino cycling jersey, breathable micro fleece, waterproof jacket and gilet. This seemed to be enough and I set my watch. Half an hour later I did feel refreshed. A bit. I had stayed warm enough, but having chosen a location at the top of a hill then immediately got cold riding down it with no extra warmth built up from the climb. The night stayed cold and I even used my winter gloves. The microfleece layer and hood were very helpful, without them I'd really have suffered. Every time I stopped to open the bag and swap some clothing around I made sure to turn the bike around to shine the light at the ground. I recovered one dropped arm warmer this way, so I'm glad I did.

Eventually the sun rose and the views were as lovely as I'd hoped. You know, the kind that never seem to come out quite right in my photos. As I rode towards Castleton one view was kind of ruined by the huge concrete factory marring an otherwise idyllic valley. Who put that there?!

Winnats pass from the bottom, before the tourists.

Next was Winnats pass which is nothing if not intimidating! At least it was still very early and the buses full of tourists had not yet arrived with their noise and smoke. Another hour of zigzagging up and down various hills put me on the road to Glossop where I had my first serious doubts about completing the ride. My left knee suddenly started getting painful. I often have a few aches, but this seemed more persistent. I decided I'd get to Glossop along a fairly flat road, by Pure Peak Grit standards, and see what I could do. Once there I find a good bakery, ate a little too much and texted my cycling buddy Nick. He's had knee issues as well, but admits he hasn't got it all worked out. Nevertheless his gentle encouragement was what I needed. I'm not someone who likes to take medication regularly, but I did take a small dose of ibuprofen before carrying on. The next climb was snake pass which was a long but thankfully gentle slope and the pain reduced to discomfort. However, the many motorbikes roaring past were a jarring contrast to the peaceful early morning lanes. A gentle loop around Edale, then straight up the formidable Mam Nick which had me walking the bike for the first time. I started walking all of the harder hills. I had done more than an Everesting's worth of climbing by this stage. Even on those I rode up I was very slow. I was passed by every cyclist I met. I resisted the urge to tell them how far I'd already gone. Some people had driven their cars to the top of the hills and sat out with chairs just soaking in the amazing vistas. I don't blame them, but I felt those of us who'd walked or cycled up there had earned those views!

Concerned that it would soon get too late to find food and unsure what options lay ahead, I went for an early dinner about half four. Nice veggie burger but I found I couldn't manage the chips and had probably over-eaten all day. The route then took another little loop up the local hills before the it moved on. This zig zagging up the same hill from different sides is exactly what I do when planning my AAA audaxes, but in this case I found it frustrating, perhaps due to the lack of perceived progress. The lovely weather and stunning views partly made up for it. I stopped a couple of times to try and loosen my pedal cleats as I was having some trouble getting the left one out which might not have been helping my knee.

As dusk fell I started getting stomach pains that I knew from a previous ride meant I would urgently need to find a toilet. The trouble was I was out in the countryside, but thankfully not far from the next town. I searched frantically on Google Maps for a pub - ah "The Friendship" that sounds good. I got there and it was a usual rowdy evening town that audaxers dread. Small cars being driven aggressively, drunken people wandering along the street and shouting. There was a sign post opposite the pub to which I locked my bike. With my lightweight cafe lock I was very unhappy about leaving my bike here even for a few moments, but my guts were now shouting at me so I had little choice. When cycling I dress to be conspicuous - fluorescent yellow helmet and arm warmers, scotchlite gilet. Great on the road, not so great in an unfamiliar pub. I smiled at the banter but didn't try to explain what I was doing. Dressed like that I didn't think I could get away with just running straight for the loo, so I bought a soft drink - I was thirsty. I made it to the toilet to my huge relief. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't quite the end of my issues and I was rather uncomfortable at times for the rest of the ride. I think this happened mostly because I ate too much, but I need to work it out because it almost ruined the ride for me.

Back on the bike the steep climbs kept coming and I kept walking. I was repeatedly trying to estimate what time I'd get in, but this was a depressing game as it kept getting later and later. In the end I resolved to just keep turning the pedals or walking the bike, knowing that the distance travelled would keep going up and I would get there sometime. If the ride wasn't endurance before, it was now.

Sometime after 11pm I was pleasantly surprised to be caught by another cyclist, Ben. Incredibly he had been riding the Pure Peak Grit as well, having started a little earlier than me. I learned that he'd also done extra distance in order to sleep in the same hotel in Buxton each night. I must have overtaken him while he slept the previous night and now, some 19 hours later he'd caught me up. It was great to have some proper company for the first time in ages, but after maybe an hour together I realised he was stronger than me and suggested he go on ahead, which he did. It was interesting too watching Ben's taillights disappear in the distance and occasionally reappear on a straight section. This was how I first realised what a huge climb we had coming. Ben must've been about a kilometre ahead when I noticed his lights rising and illuminating some dramatic bends. Only after slowly following him up this enormous climb did I realise it was Holme Moss, topping out at 525m above sea level. Ben's swift disappearance got me thinking that I'm definitely not one of those people who can ride well on only a few minutes of sleep per night. I was plodding, my average speed about 70% of what it might be on a typical 200km. My neck and back were aching the way they do when I'm too tired. A few hours of good sleep would probably have made up for the time spent in my case, and certainly made the ride more enjoyable.

After a chilly descent I was back to plodding along and counting up the distance. Not fast, but with no stopping now. Happily the terrain, while not flat, did not provide the extremes of earlier and I arrived into Buxton about 2:45am. Relieved, exhausted, aching I sneaked back to the hotel glad that I'd arranged with the landlord to leave a key out for me.

It was a beautiful route, but I felt utterly sure I never wanted to do anything as hard as that again!

Riding King Alfred's Way

2021-07-12T14:33:00+01:00

Cycling UK, formerly known as the CTC recently put together the King Alfred's Way route. This doesn't involve a lot of new signs marking the trail, but a webpage and map showing the way. It takes in the already popular Ridgeway and South Downs Way routes and links them up with smaller, local routes and some mostly quiet roads.

As you can see from our photos, we had a lot of rain on one day, so decided to stay in pubs and hotels all of whom were helpful with bike storage, though we did ask in advance.

Not long after the start, when we were still clean and travelling through some very well-kept villages

It got rainy and in places, muddy. Luckily we had the time to take it slowly.

I said to Nick "we might be able to ride through it". He tried. Far too deep and he fell off soaking him and his luggage. Would've been fair enough if he'd yelled at me, but I think he said "Yeah, that's not ideal". I think this is why he fits in so well in Britain.

Even in the rain, this is beautiful and peaceful.

Not technical, not boring, just peaceful and interesting.

A lucky find. We happened upon this well-stocked little shop in a small village along the way.

Is the bottle hygienic? Probably not. Am I thirsty? Yes!

The ridgeway was a more familiar part of the route.

At the finish. Damp and smelly, but feeling good.

How to deal with bad security questions

2020-11-14T17:37:00+00:00

"What is your mother's maiden name?"

"What was your first school?"

A lot of online services ask members to provide answers to questions like these in order to unlock their accounts in the event that they forget their password.

However, compared to a good password, they are very insecure. They are often easy to guess or to discover through social engineering. For example, imagine your bank phones you up and asks to go through some security questions. You duly provide answers similar to the above without checking that the caller is really from your bank. Even if you don't fall for that trick, some of these answers are public knowledge or might be discovered by a determined attacker. There are only so many junior school names in the country, so if the security question system allows multiple guesses, then an automated attack could work.

As a result, security questions can be the weak link in your online security. What can you do?

Lie

In some cases there might be legal reasons why you have to give honest answers to security questions. If in doubt, check with the company providing the service.

In other cases, or where the answers are opinion-based such as "your favourite... ", you can invent something entirely fictitious.

That's right, a lie, a fib, a porky.

In this case it's best if the lie is not guessable either. If your first school was St Paul's, don't change it to St Mary's, St John's or something which probably exists and would be on any list of guesses. Instead invent a completely new name using no dictionary words or names. Longer is better. A bit like a randomised password.

What if I forget my answers?

I assume that security questions were devised as something which, unlike a password, a person would not forget. A school or mother's maiden name is a piece of knowledge they've carried around in their heads for years and will probably always remember. That's why it's appealing as a backup to a password.

But someone giving semi-random, invented answers, probably won't remember them. It should also go without saying that they shouldn't use the same invented answers for every website or service.

That makes the answers hard to remember, like a good password.

The solution in both cases is a password manager. I cannot recommend this highly enough. They give security and convenience for a small learning curve.

In addition to the URL, Username and Password fields, most password managers (aka password safes) have a "Notes" field which is also kept secure. I use this to store the questions and my unique answers to security questions.

Are environmental campaigners hypocrites?

2020-10-08T20:03:00+01:00

It is an oft-repeated claim.

A famous environmental campaigner takes a flight, eats meat or drives a car. These are environmentally-damaging activities. They are therefore a hypocrite and can be ignored.

I think everyone is aware of this idea and how commonly it is used to dismiss someone's opinion on climate and ecological issues. The more famous a person becomes, the more likely this argument is to be used against them. It's an ad-hominem attack - avoiding the issue in question and focusing instead on the person raising it.

I can see two ways for campaigners to deal with this.

The perfect environmentalist

The first way is to work hard to reduce their carbon footprint. Cut out air travel, follow a vegan diet, avoid plastic packaging, reduce waste... I could list many more.

Which is the problem.

Almost everything we do causes some kind of environmental harm. Maybe the person is a vegan who never flies and only travels on foot or by bicycle. No, they can still be ignored because they wear clothes that were made abroad in dubious conditions. Perhaps only when they live in a house they made out of foraged materials, eat only food they grew themselves and wear clothes woven out of their own hair can they be listened to. But at that point people can label them as an "egotistical virtue signaller" or simply a "weirdo".

Then they can be ignored.

Recognise the toxic system

A different approach is to recognise that reducing your personal environmental impact to zero is impossible.

Which is exactly the problem.

Most of our everyday activities - travel, food, clothing, work - are intimately linked with fossil fuels. Most of us have to wear certain clothes, travel or use certain services for work or family commitments. Despite some recent improvements, much of modern life is still powered by fossil fuels or involves other environmentally-damaging activities such as deforestation.

Against this backdrop, we cannot live environmentally-responsible lives. Why would we hold people to that impossible standard?

The wrong message

For a long time it seemed the solution promoted by environmentalism was individual action. People must make better choices! Lower their carbon footprint! Stop doing things which emit greenhouse gasses.

Everybody is aware of this message because it was very well publicised by governments, schools, NGOs and corporations.

The trouble is that the message is out of date and misleading.

Even if every individual does their bit it won't be enough. Time is running out. Bigger changes are needed. There's no technological miracle about to save us. We have the technology we need. What we lack is political will.

Governments need to step up and make sustainable living easy.

If you listen to recent environmental campaigners, most are not asking for people to lower their carbon footprints. They are not blaming and shaming individuals. Many of them readily admit that they are not angels when it comes to their own impact. Extinction Rebellion co-founder Gail Bradbrook said, about her lifestyle “I’m not perfect and it is difficult trying to juggle everything,”.

If activists were asking individuals to dramatically lower their carbon footprints while making no effort to lower their own, then yes, they would be hypocrites. They might still make some good points, but it would spoil their credibility for most people.

But they're not asking that.

They're asking government and corporations to change. Those organisations with the greatest responsibility and the greatest power to address the crisis. Those who could make it easy for citizens to live sustainable lives. Who could make the environmentally-friendly choices the cheapest and easiest choices.

Not only is that fairer on individuals, it is also more likely to solve the problem.

How much does your personal carbon footprint matter?

2020-10-06T20:50:00+01:00

You know how friends and family like to send you newspaper articles through the post that they thought would interest you? Well, presumably because I often talk about climate things I was recently sent an article taken from The Sunday Times entitled "The man who knows the carbon footprint of everything".

It was interesting.

The man is Mike Berners-Lee who has released an updated version of his book "How bad are bananas". The article contains a handful of products and activities and briefly explains their carbon footprints. I'm not going to criticise the book here. There are plenty of reviews on Amazon if that's what you're after. What I'm interested in is the practice encouraged by this and other articles of fastidiously counting our personal carbon footprints.

Counting your carbon-calories?

I find this is a curious parallel to counting calories. It got me wondering whether carbon-counting is as ineffective for climate as calorie-counting is for health. I know calories are related to health and a carbon footprint is related to climate change, but both can be a distraction from the big picture. A person can carefully consume exactly the right amount of calories in the form of crisps, chocolate and diet cola while leading a sedentary lifestyle. Similarly they could switch their cow's milk for oat milk or wrap their child in a re-usable nappy, forgetting that their pension is invested with a company intent on exploiting tar sands for oil and that their government is funding fossil fuel projects abroad.

But all these small actions add up, right?

Yes and no.

I think there are a lot of good reasons to make changes to our individual lifestyles. There are obvious things like reducing total emissions a bit and influencing others to do the same. Buying more sustainable products does grow the market for such things.

Less obvious is that changing the way we consume and travel can give us a different appreciation for resources. Asking the question, "Do I really need...?" creates a focus on what is important, what is a distraction and what is wasteful.

Finally, it is good to recognise the luxury that has become normal for most of us in the UK and the rest of the rich world. Only around 20% of the world's population have ever been on an aeroplane, 25% don't have their own toilet and 38% have no access to the Internet. Living with a bit less of that excess should make it easier to move to a more sustainable future.

Can we fix climate change through individual actions?

Asking individuals to change their lifestyles to help the planet is nothing new. We've known about climate change since at least the 90s. Even back then people were encouraged to recycle, drive less and so on.

How much has it helped?

UK emissions have dropped a bit since 1990. However, most of that reduction was due to phasing out coal to generate power. This happened mostly for economic reasons and consumers had little control over it.

The latest UK Committee on Climate Change report suggests that things like surface transport emissions have hardly improved at all.

To be fair to individuals, we can't expect them to prefer cycling and walking unless government and local authorities make the necessary improvements to make them convenient and safe. Most people are in favour of these changes, but they need government to make them happen.

Meanwhile the UK government is providing subsidies and loans for fossil fuels, building new roads and supporting fossil fuel expansion abroad. All of which commits us to years of carbon emissions, even if some of them don't get counted as "UK" emissions. That puts the question of whether you should take the car to the shops instead of walking into perspective. Especially when the shops are at the other end of a busy dual carriageway.

Worldwide, CO2 emissions are still rising. In 1990 CO2 made up about 350 parts per million in the atmosphere, while today it's at 411ppm.

If individuals watching their carbon footprints is making a difference, it's not enough.

Arguably it would make a much bigger difference if individuals took their pensions and savings out of fossil fuels and invested in renewable energy. If you can persuade your employer or local government to do the same, then the difference can be even bigger. Mike Berners-Lee's article in The Sunday Times compared the carbon footprint of a goldfish and a cat, a bicycle with an e-bike, all of which are trivial by comparison. He did mention the astronomical carbon footprint of space tourism, but that's not something many of us would consider.

Why are we being told to sweat the small stuff?

So why the climate trivia? Divesting from fossil fuels or pressuring the government to make sustainable living easier is important. However, they are not strategies you're likely to read in newspapers. I've realised that most of the media is not on board with the scale of change needed to address the climate and ecological emergency. This may be because newspaper owners are invested in the fossil-fuel-driven status quo. The article I read is from The Sunday Times which is owned by Rupert Murdoch. He has a very bad reputation when it comes to the environment. In other countries his media outlets have even denied the science of human-induced climate change. If a British newspaper printed outright climate denial today they would probably lose credibility. So how can they prevent people from taking meaningful action on climate change without flying in the face of science and public opinion...? ... reframe the solution as a matter of individual choices.

The idea of everyone doing their bit, pulling together and making a collective difference is appealing and has some merit. The problem comes when large, polluting industries do not do their bit. Their bit is enormous. It's even worse when they actively work against progress while shifting the responsibility to individuals.

I found an amazing article on Mashable which explains how BP popularised the carbon footprint eventually leading to books and articles like those I described above. Once that happened, conscientious environmentalists were expected to dramatically reduce their own carbon footprints. If they don't do that perfectly, they can be accused of being hypocrites when they speak out on environmental issues. But of course society isn't set up to allow people to reduce their carbon footprints and still live normal lives. So those pleading for nature and planet are doomed to be dismissed.

I believe that articles obsessing over personal carbon footprints are intended to make us feel guilty and distract us from the bigger picture of the corporations who benefit from the fossil fuel-powered world.

This is late-stage climate-change denial. It is no longer possible to deny there is a problem or that human consumption is causing it. The last resort is to implicitly deny that governments and corporations need to act, by focusing instead on what individuals ought to do.

When it comes to the climate and ecological emergency, governments and corporations are best placed to enable the necessary changes, for example by redesigning urban spaces, moving to renewable energy, improving agricultural policy or banning products linked to deforestation.

Once that happens, everyone's carbon footprints will drop naturally because sustainable choices will also be the cheapest, most convenient choices.

"What is the meaning of life?" is a loaded question

2020-09-20T18:18:00+01:00

"What is the meaning of life?"

This is such a common question that I think most of us take for granted that it is also a valid one. I'd like to challenge that view. The question in the form above is loaded as it implies some assumptions.

That there is a meaning of life
That there is only one meaning of life
That it is the same meaning for all people
That it might be possible to know this meaning

Given humanity's many efforts and failure to agree on an answer to this question, it seems reasonable to conclude that at least some of these assumptions are false. The many humorous and facetious answers further underline the question's dubious nature.

OK, you may argue that not all of my listed assumptions are assumed by the phrasing of the question, but to a greater or lesser degree they are all implied. Granted, some people asking the question may not hold those assumptions and may in fact be open to a broader range of answers than the question really allows. However, this framing of the question is such a common cliche or archetype that it probably doesn't occur to them.

So what would a better question be? My first suggestion would be:

"What makes life meaningful to you?"

However, in the interests of fairness, this arguably contains other assumptions.

That life does not have the same meaning for every person
That there are thing(s) which make life meaningful to this person

So perhaps we should first be asking whether someone believes life has meaning and whether it is singular or multifarious, before going on to ask the relevant subsequent questions.

"Your" a pedant

Perhaps the difference between these questions seems pedantic, but the usual phrasing of the question, "What is the meaning of life?" biases the answers towards prescriptive, external meaning and against descriptive, existential meaning.

I find the latter more helpful and more practical.

I suspect the phrase "What is the meaning of life?" is popular in cultures with a strong monotheistic influence which presupposes a prescriptive answer. "What makes life meaningful to you?" or the longer approach of several questions still leaves plenty of room for religious people to describe how their religion gives their life meaning, without dictating that it must be the only way a person can find meaning.

"What is the meaning of life?" might still be a good question if you are consulting a guru.

If, on the other hand, you're trying to get to know an acquaintance better, it might be better to ask "What makes life meaningful to you?"

Letter asking MP to support the climate and ecological emergency bill

2020-09-04T10:18:00+01:00

Dear Michelle,

I'm writing to ask you to support the Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill. The details of this are explained at: https://www.ceebill.uk/

“This Bill outlines the path needed to avoid the catastrophe outlined by the United Nations... it is farsighted aiming to protect those at risk now and in the future.”

It is the most basic and fundamental responsibility of the government to protect their citizens from harm. This bill provides a clear path forwards on this difficult problem. I believe concerted effort and new thinking is required if we are to stand a chance of protecting ourselves, our children and future generations.

You may respond that you are unable to act due to your role or your party and the rules which they impose. But if you are truly powerless to support this I wonder in what sense you can represent your constituents, rather than your party.

I urge you to give this serious consideration, to do the right thing to protect and conserve life. I believe those who support this bill will find themselves on the right side of history.

Yours sincerely,

James Bradbury

Advice for councils looking to encourage cycling

2020-07-26T20:23:00+01:00

Wiltshire council asked residents to give their opinion on how cycling can be encouraged in the county. This is my response.

What would a more cycle friendly Wiltshire look like?

The majority of people will use a bicycle regularly for at least some of their local journeys. Not simply cycling enthusiasts like myself, but those going to work, to the shops, to school. People of all ages and abilities will cycle regularly because it is convenient, safe and healthy. They won't call themselves cyclists any more than a person walking to the shops would call themselves a walker. They're simply people trying to get somewhere.

How can we make this come about?

The period of lockdown earlier this year saw a large increase in the numbers of people cycling. Some of these may be because they had more free time or wanted to avoid buses and trains, but I believe a substantial proportion took to the roads by bike because of reduced motor traffic. Motor traffic makes cycling noisy, stressful, polluted and causes real and subjective danger. I believe it is the main factor in preventing more people from cycling.

To change this I propose:

Anything to reduce motor vehicle use, especially for short journeys is to be encouraged. Solutions can be as diverse as better walking routes to the shops, congestion charging, alternating days when different people are allowed to drive, improving the bus services so people don't need to drive, partially closing some roads to prevent through traffic but still allow deliveries, etc.
A total ban on expanding motor vehicle facilities. No new roads, no new car parks. Work should be limited to maintenance of existing facilities only.
Provide cycle lanes physically separated from motor traffic with barriers or an entirely different route. They must be continuous, not forcing cyclists to stop every few meters to give way. They must be smooth enough and well-maintained. They must take people all the way to places they need to go - work, shops, school, railway station. If they don't meet all those criteria then few cyclists will use them and the money will be wasted.
Where separated cycle lanes are not possible, speed limits for motor traffic should be reduced. The narrower the road, the more the speed limit should be reduced. It can be done with signage and cameras or with traffic calming measures such as speed bumps with gaps for bicycles. This improves safety for all and reduces pollution. It may also encourage motor traffic to prefer other, larger roads or motorways.

What are the cycling initiatives in Wiltshire / UK / Europe that we should be aware of?

Besides the opinion of myself and other local cyclists, any new cycling infrastructure should take into account the advice of those with more experience in this area, for example:

Sustrans can provide detailed guidance on how to design infrastructure.
Cycling UK (formerly CTC) have sensible policies regarding planning to encourage uptake of cycling.
This well-researched blog discusses and describes the best of Dutch cycling infrastructure and why it works.

What is holding back the take up of cycling across the county?

A proper survey would give better answers, but, in order of importance, my best guesses are:

Lack of safety and subjective safety, mainly due to motor traffic.
Perceived lack of fitness/skills or embarrassment about not looking the part
Inconvenience of bike storage/security and the need to arrive looking smart

How would we break down those barriers?

As above, reduce motor traffic or physically separate cyclist from it. Failing that, widen roads and reduce speed limit.
Publicity, education (e.g.: https://bikeability.org.uk/) and encouragement for electric bikes.
Better parking and washing facilities, improving understanding culture of people being at work slightly dishevelled.

How do we better connect our communities with cycle routes?

Think about the ordinary journeys people make every day from end to end.

With limited resources, it is better to provide a few safe, useful, complete routes with facilities at each destination than to create a multitude of new routes which are not safe or useful.

It is about quality rather than quantity.

Comparing tyres and pressures

2020-07-06T16:55:00+01:00

Now that I have a power meter in the rear hub of my road bike I can compare not only my own efforts, but how much various bits of kit slow me down. In this case, I have compared a tough fast-touring Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm tyre with a Michelin Pro 4 Endurance 28mm. The latter should have lower rolling resistance by some 7W if the laboratory results from bicyclerollingresistance.com are to be believed.

However, those tests are done on a checker plate drum in controlled conditions. In some ways that's good because it removes a lot of noise from other factors that you'd get in the real world. However, I'm interested in getting some real-world data, that applies more directly to me and the bumpy roads I normally ride.

So I ran my own rather inexact experiment as follows:

Route: 3.2km climb up "Road hill climb" through Ditteridge. I didn't measure the descent as it depends more on wind resistance.
Power: 200W average. A power I can consistently and repeatedly produce for the time it takes to climb this hill.
Wheels: Front wheel only changed. I could've changed the rear as well, but that would've taken all day.
Measurement: The total lap time for climbing the hill. With consistent power this should show any differences in the drag of the set up.

Possible confounding factors

Wind - at a couple of points on the climb there was a headwind which seemed to increase around the middle of the session. I can't be sure how much difference this made. Ideally I'd do this on a still day.
Road surface inconsistencies - try as I might, I can't be sure I took exactly the same route up the hill each time. When cars passed me I may have been forced over rougher patches of road for a moment.
Different hubs - I didn't bother changing the tyres over to use the same rim and hub, so the Schwalbe was on my recently-serviced SON Delux hub. I guess there's a slight extra weight and possibly drag penalty for the Schwalbe tyre.
Variable power output - While the average power over the climb was 200W +/- 1W, I couldn't stay at exactly 200W all the way up with varying gradient and gear changes. 200W is obviously a lot faster on the flatter sections than the climbs, so there is more than one way of doing it. Arguably it may be faster to put out most of that 200W allowance on the steepest parts when less is being lost in wind resistance.
Psychology/Placebo effect - Although I'm not conscious of riding differently, I may have tried harder to steer a straight line and stay on the smoothest bit of road with some climbs than others.

With those caveats out of the way, here are the results.

Results

Tyre	Pressure (PSI)	Lap power	Lap time	Relative drag (Watts)
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	95	200	00:13:21	13
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	80	199	00:13:31	16
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	70	199	00:13:27	15
Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard 25mm	60	199	00:13:14	12
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	85	199	00:13:08	10
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	70	199	00:13:12	11
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	65	200	00:13:14	12
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm*	58	~~199~~	~~00:13:11~~	11
Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm	58	199	00:13:05	9

* Had to brake due to a turning vehicle.

Results	Time
Av. Marathon Greenguard this	00:13:23
Av. Pro4 Endurance	00:13:09
Difference	00:00:13
Time diff per 100km (uphill) per tyre	00:07:01

The raw data copied from my Strava ride. Recorded on a Garmin Edge 500 using a PowerTap hub. "Relative drag" is based on my dodgy reverse-use of the Bike Calculator and is only useful for comparison within this table, if at all.

Conclusions

The results aren't as clear as I'd hoped, but I think the technique roughly works. Climbing at a consistent power and measuring the time did show some consistent results. The Michelin Pro 4 endurance tyre with a plain Shimano 105 hub was faster every time than the Schwalbe Marathon Greenguard on a SON Delux dynamo hub (disconnected). However, the difference is only a few seconds and multiplying this up to a 100km for two wheels would result in a longer ride by less than 15 minutes.

That number only really makes sense if the whole of that 100km was uphill, like my test. Downhill, tyre rolling resistance is small compared to air resistance. Perhaps a better estimate for a real 100km would be an extra ten minutes per 100km using the tougher Marathon tyres. On second thoughts, multiplying up like that would also multiply up my errors and confounding factors, so I ought to run a better experiment before declaring such a difference.

Future improvements

There's no noticeable drag from either hub, but I could obviously improve the experiment by actually changing the tyre between runs. This would also mean the rim/hub weight wouldn't affect the climb.
I think most of the runs were made with higher than ideal pressure for my weight. At 63kg I'm fairly light and so prefer lower pressures. If I did this again I'd try to work out a good pressure for each tyre and stick with it.
Repeated runs. Gusts of wind and wobbling around slightly rougher bits of ground could be averaged out if I repeat the test several times for each set up and take the total time (excluding descents).
Fit the tyres to both wheels. This should show twice the effect, maybe more as there's more weight on the rear wheel. I'd only need to change the tyres once during the session, so it shouldn't take too long.
Ride on a day with virtually no wind. At times this seemed to make a big difference, albeit for a couple of seconds, so removing it should be easy enough.

See follow-up post.

Long-term review: SRAM RED eTAP

2020-05-25T16:55:00+01:00

I used a SRAM RED eTAP road groupset with rim-brakes for about eight months and about 4600km. Here are my thoughts.

Setup

Setting up a new groupset isn't something I have much familiarity with. I've changed components and tweaked my bikes for the last few years, but I'm no expert. I should also point out that because I didn't want to pay three figures for a SRAM cassette I have a fairly ordinary Shimano one. I also have a Stronglight chainset because I prefer the robust and affordable square taper bottom bracket.

Despite that, setting up the eTAP was easy. Probably easier than a mechanical groupset. Apart from the brakes, there are no cables to route. There were online videos which helped, but apart from a couple of dropped chains until I adjusted the position of the front derailleur, everything just worked.

What's it like to use?

Ergonomically the eTAP shifters are wonderful to use. They are easy, comfortable and quick enough to change for my purposes. They have a positive little click and once you're used to them, require little thought or effort, even when changing multiple gears at once. This is really nice when you're tired or have cold hands. I've never had a problem changing gear with mechanical shifters, but these are noticeably easier. An added bonus is that it's easier to shift while braking, assuming you turn the pedals slowly as well.

Blips

I also bought a set of "blips" which are additional shifting buttons which can be positioned under bar tape or on aero bars and plugged into the main shifters via short wires. These I found more temperamental and found after a few rides one of them would stop working and I'd have to undo the bar tape, jiggle them around and redo them. A had a few weeks of doing this before they finally decided to work consistently. I'm not sure what the problem was. Maybe winding the bar tape slightly pulled the plug out or pre-pushed the button or maybe one wire had a partial break in it which only caused a problem at certain angles. Once working it was a small bonus to be able to shift from the bar tops without the slight extra effort of shifting position each time.

Adjustment

I'm not going to pretend that electronic shifting means all shifts are perfect and smooth and there's no noise or chain skip. It isn't magic. It still requires adjustment and in my experience went out of adjustment as easily as any derailleur. The equivalent of a barrel adjuster is an extra little button inside the shift lever. If you hold that down when shifting then, instead of a full shift, it does a tiny adjustment shift which is not reset the next time you do a normal shift. Thus you can make tweaks to keep the derailleur lined up with the cassette. This works really well when the bike is on a maintenance stand, but I found the little buttons really awkward to reach when riding.

Batteries

Front and rear derailleurs each come with an identical battery. You can swap them between the two if you want. They also have plastic blanking plates to keep the battery sockets clean in transport. In theory the batteries will last for 1000km. I never went more than 800km without charging, but they seemed fine for that. They can be charged with a small USB charger in under an hour, so you could feasibly do this on the road or from a hub dynamo.

The batteries are supposed to be removed for transporting the bike, say on a roof rack or by train. This is apparently because the motion of the vehicle will trigger the gears to "wake up" and drain a little battery life.

Reliability

For the most part the eTAP just works without problems, but I did get one issue which became a show-stopper for me.

On a couple of my longer rides I noticed that occasionally that clicking the shifters for the rear derailleur had no effect. I'd click again, sometimes several times, up and down, using the levers or the blips. Nothing. Then, ten to thirty seconds later it would come back and sometimes catch up with all the shifts I'd made. The front derailleur continued to work as normal.

At first this occurred only very occasionally, maybe for 30 seconds every few weeks. Annoying, but as I don't race it wasn't the end of the world.

Over time it got a bit worse, happening more often, once every few days. I contacted Wiggle, through whom I'd bought the gears and they said that as it was more than six months old, I'd need to provide a video of the fault occurring before I could send it for repair/replacement. Great, that's not going to be easy or safe to do while riding along! I could put the bike in a workstand to capture the issue, but could be waiting hours before it happened.

To complicate matters, my big ride of the year, PBP2019 was approaching and I had to make a decision - go with the ergonomic, but unreliable eTAP or refit my old Campagnolo mechanical groupset. Even if I could get Wiggle to agree to a replacement of the flaky eTAP, I doubted it would come back in time for the event. In the end I decided to stick with the eTAP, partly due to laziness about refitting the old groupset and getting it tweaked properly before the event. Unfortunately, about 800km into this 1200km event, the shifting got dramatically worse and, with 200km to go I couldn't get the rear derailleur to move at all. I finished OK on two gears by shifting on the front ring only, but it was a disappointing outcome for such an expensive system. I'm learning that, in general the most expensive kit is not usually more reliable than the middle of the range kit.

When I got back, providing video evidence to Wiggle was at least easy now, so they and SRAM did the right thing and replaced the rear derailleur, which I promptly put up for sale on eBay, along with the rest of the groupset.

My guess is that the power-saving motion sensor in the rear derailleur became damaged due to vibration, taking more and more violent bumps to wake it up and eventually wouldn't switch on at all.

Conclusion

Is the SRAM RED eTap nice to use?

Yes, it's very nice to use. The batteries add some complication in that they're another thing to remember to charge and can be stolen, but in general it is ergonomic and functional.

Do you need a SRAM RED eTAP?

No, you don't.

Well, maybe you do if you have some issues with hand mobility that bar-end or down-tube shifters won't solve. In that case think seriously about single speed or fixed gear riding. I haven't tried it but it is a simple set up which plenty of people of all ages enjoy it and seem to have few issues. But if you want shifters, mechanical ones work well for the vast majority of people.

I'm increasingly valuing reliability and simplicity. Going electronic is a nice gadget, but it doesn't revolutionise the ride. For me it's not worth the money.

Do cyclists have a "death wish"?

2020-05-08T09:28:00+01:00

A friend of mine from London recently told me that she'd been cycling but that it was indoors because she didn't have a "death wish".

This is the first time I've heard it put in such emotive terms, but I know others who are nervous of cycling, especially on the road, due to fear of serious injury.

They're not alone.

"Around 59% of non-cyclists in Britain feel that it is too dangerous for them to cycle on the roads".

My friend's comment upset me. Not because I think she should go cycling outside, that's her choice. It's her choice of words that bothered me. Now to be fair she may say that it's only a "death wish" for herself due to her self-confessed lack of balance and coordination on a bike. But using a phrase like that implies that cyclists are inherently reckless or irresponsible to ride on the roads, or at least on the roads in London.

From there it's a short, slippery slope to victim-blaming - telling cyclists who are injured in accidents that it's partly their fault simply for being on the roads. Note, I'm not saying that cyclists are always blameless in collisions, but with less physical protection than motor vehicles we tend to be more careful to avoid collisions.

How risky is cycling?

The other thing which annoyed me about my friend's comment is that it seemed like a misrepresentation of the facts. So I did some research.

Looking at RoSPA's data from 2016, shows that 102 people were killed cycling that year in the UK and many more injured. The DfT summary shows 99 killed in 2019. When comparing this with other activities, it's important to consider the rate at which those activities occur. 777 people in cars were killed in 2018, but many more people travel in cars than by bike, so that's to be expected. The Full-fact website makes a good comparison to show the risks of injury and death while cycling is much greater per mile travelled than travel in a car. However it also shows that pedestrians are a slightly higher risk of death in road accidents than cyclists, again per mile travelled. Should we be telling pedestrians to wear helmets?

When you compare the overall risks of cycling with a range of other activities as this website does, it does not look especially dangerous. As I expected, it shows cycling is less dangerous than climbing or horse riding, and is even safer than swimming and fishing.

If we then compare these numbers of fatalities with the tens of thousands of premature deaths due to diseases caused or made worse by sedentary lifestyles, not cycling looks like the more risky option. Even when you take into account accidents and exposure to pollution, cyclists live longer than non-cyclists. Of course there are plenty of ways to get exercise without road cycling, but in practice it can be hard to fit them into a busy lifestyle. Cycle-commuting is a great way to get regular exercise as it replaces the daily task of commuting, which few people relish, with one that is healthy and more enjoyable.

Further discussion of the risks and benefits of cycling can be found in this excellent article from the NHS.

What if people think cycling is dangerous?

It seems clear that public perception of cycling is not in line with the statistical reality. There's a regular media theme of the dangers of riding a bike without reasonable comparison to other risks, perpetuated by those who say things like cyclists have a "death wish".

This saddens me as there's a huge risk from the perception of cycling as dangerous. That is that fewer people will do it. Sure, some of them could do other forms of exercise which might be seen as safe, and these should be encouraged too, but for many people cycling is the most convenient or the only one they can fit into their lives. To neglect cycling means people will miss out on the mental and physical health benefits of regular exercise and lives will be lost. These aren't dramatic deaths like being hit by a taxi and might be harder to measure exactly, but the loss of life from sedentary lifestyles is so much greater than the exact numbers don't change the fact - a lack of regular exercise is much more dangerous than cycling.

For the people who shift from car to bicycle, we estimated that the well-documented beneficial effect of increased physical activity due to cycling resulted in about 9 times more gains in life-years than the losses in life years due to increased inhaled air pollution doses and traffic accidents.

There is also the fact that the more people who cycle, the safer it gets.

In a study of 115 cities in the US and Denmark, as well in 14 European countries, it was found that motorists are less likely to hit cyclists and pedestrians when there are more people cycling or walking. It appears that motorists adjust their behaviour in the presence of people cycling.

So as a society we should be encouraging more people to cycle, not putting them off by saying that it is more dangerous than it is.

I encourage anyone to have a go at cycling and to take sensible measures to improve their safety. But, as long as they're not breaking the law, they shouldn't be judged as irresponsible if they don't do all these things such as wearing a helmet, for example. I think there should at least as much attention given to better road design and enforcement of traffic laws to keep pedestrians and cyclists safe while encouraging healthy sustainable transport.

The news may be tragic, but is it important?

2020-04-29T20:51:00+01:00

Something terrible and possibly violent happens to a family somewhere in the country. News sources report this in emotionally-charged detail. It is tragic, but is reading this kind of thing in our interests?

I've heard many people justify their avid consumption of news saying they need to stay informed about the world. That sounds reasonable enough, but how well do news sources inform people? By that I mean to provide accurate and relevant information. Much of news media is competing for the attention of readers and viewers, so tends towards entertainment or sensationalism. This giving of priority to noise and attention can have some unfortunate side-effects.

I know we often have a macabre fascination with real-life horror. Not just the horror, but drama and outrage. If these things weren't in some way captivating, then they probably wouldn't be reported at all. It's easy to become slightly obsessed with negative news, particularly while the world grapples with the effects of COVID-19.

What's more, we probably identify more strongly with stories that feature the experiences of a small group of people. The trouble is that it doesn't help us to understand the world as a whole. When accompanied by sound analysis and reliable research, such personal accounts can give a human perspective on some otherwise dry topic. But without that research and analysis, they're useless in helping us "stay informed about the world".

It doesn't take much imagination to see how this focus on small scale horror and drama can be harmful to people's mental health and see the world as a more dangerous place than it is. It isn't a huge leap to suggest that, over time, it might make for a more selfish, fearful society.

I'm not saying we should avoid all bad news, rather that we should avoid the irrelevant, negative, sensationalist stories. Hearing about someone who lost their whole family to a virus doesn't help anyone. Learning about what individuals need to do to protect themselves and others during a pandemic is useful and important. The latter story may not be cheery news, but is at least relevant and not sensational.

I'm now trying to make a conscious effort not to click past headlines about individual tragedies. If a news source provides too much irrelevant noise, it's easy enough to switch to another. If traditional news sources continue to fail you, there are alternatives with a refreshingly-positive take on the news.

Yes! Magazine (US) https://www.yesmagazine.org Through rigorous reporting on the positive ways communities are responding to social problems and insightful commentary that sparks constructive discourse, YES! Media inspires people to build a more just, sustainable, and compassionate world.

Positive.News (UK)
https://www.positive.news/ We are pioneers of ‘constructive journalism’ – a new approach in the media, which is about rigorous and relevant journalism that is focused on progress, possibility, and solutions. We publish daily online and Positive News magazine is published quarterly in print.

Good News Network (US)
https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/ Since 1997, millions of people have turned to the Good News Network as an antidote to the barrage of negativity experienced in the mainstream media.

1x11 Gearing stuck in largest cog

2020-04-18T20:01:00+01:00

I've had an issue recently when riding my otherwise good 1x11 Shimano 105 setup. I was tending to get stuck in the lowest gear, the biggest cog. Now admittedly the Wolftooth DM is at the limit of the cassette size it will accommodate, but is has worked OK so far, so I don't see any reason it shouldn't keep working.

I checked everything, cleaned everything and made sure the cable was moving smoothly. I realised that I'd cut a slightly short piece of gear cable to connect to the derailleur itself, so replaced it with a longer one.

The problem didn't go away.

Changing down the gears resulted only in a rumbling clicking sound and sometimes, eventually a shift. I got the bike up on the stand and had a closer look.

I noticed that the derailleur jockey wheel was so close to the large cog that the chain was catching on it and unable to move. I had a vague memory about there being an adjustment for this called the "B-screw" so tried adjusting mine only to find it was screwed all the way in but obviously wasn't doing the job any more. Maybe it wore down or became slightly damaged.

Noticed the B-screw had underneath it a black plastic washer. I took it out and found it was 1-2mm thick. Without it the screw would go in a little further and keep the jockey wheel away from the cog (see above). Proper shifting once more! I'm a little concerned that this washer must serve some purpose, but everything seems to work fine without it.

Road Bike Gearing - 1x11

2019-11-26T13:17:00+00:00

When my rear dérailleur failed during PBP reducing me to two gears, I admit that my first reaction was to direct some harsh words at the SRAM eTAP Red groupset. Eventually I reached a philosophical acceptance and I started to think about alternatives. Later, my friends on fixed-gear bikes suggested that I still had one more gear than I needed! While I admire the simplicity of fixed-gear or single-speed bikes, I don't think there's room for one in my garage just yet and I'm not sure my knees would take it. However, riding for a few hundred kilometres with only two gears did make me think about how many gears I need.

Making do with two

For the last 200km of PBP 2019 I disabled my rear dérailleur by removing the battery to prevent accidental shifts. I left the chain in the 3rd-lowest gear, with 26 teeth. Coupled with the front rings of 34t and 50t, this gave me two gears. According to this bicycle gears calculator the lower ratio was 1.32 and the higher one 1.94. Now those two numbers mean about as much to me as to the average cyclist. What they're useful for is comparison with other possible setups. Another way to describe it is that I lost my bottom two gears and my top eight gears. I was a little slower as a result, but I was surprised how little difference it made. Admittedly it helped that the PBP course is not very hilly. I did have to stand up and grind slowly on the way to Mortagne and could have gone a little faster down hill rather than spinning out at 30kph. However, after 1000km I was in no state to be pushing hard in a high gear.

What gearing do I really need?

OK, "need" is a relative term. I imagine bicycle gears are a tiny point vanishing at the top of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, but for the riding I do, what works? Those two gears may have been fine for the end of PBP, but for more general use including fast group riding and steep hills, I'd want a wider range. For the last five years my usual road bike 2x11 setup with 50t-34t front and 11t-32t rear gives a lowest ratio of 1.07 and a highest ratio of 4.59. The only time I changed this was to a lower ratio of 0.69 for a steep Everesting and I was very glad I did.

One ring front, eleven back

After some playing around with the calculators I worked out that I can get something very close to my original compact 2x11 set up with a single, 44-tooth ring on the front and a wider 11-42 tooth cassette. My thinking is that I won't really miss the top two gears. In fact it's not even two gears, as 4.04 is still higher than 3.61 - my old third-highest gear. It's more like I'm losing one-and-a-bit gears. I rarely use such high ratios, especially on long rides. They would typically be for an all-out sprint slightly downhill or with a tailwind. However, the bottom end of the gear range is essential to keeping my average speed up on steep climbs when tired. My lowest gear will now be fractionally lower than before, but not enough to notice.

Building the gears

A 1x11 setup on a road bike is unusual, so it took a bit of thought as to how to do it. In particular it's hard to find a rear road derailleur which will allow such a large cassette. One option is to get a purpose-made 1x system like SRAM's Apex 1. Even putting aside my recent bad experience with SRAM, some online research suggests they are not as robust as other brands and sourcing spare parts would certainly be harder than Shimano.

So what can I do with Shimano? The medium cage 105 derailleur will stretch to 11-34 teeth on a cassette. As you can see from the table above, that doesn't give much gear range. With a bit of research I discovered the Wolftooth Roadlink DM. This extends the reach of the cassette to allow 11-42 teeth - a much larger range. The Roadlink DM has been tested with the latest 105, Ultegra and Dura Ace derailleurs. I couldn't see any advantage to Ultegra/Dura Ace except for saving a few grams, so went for the 105. I wasn't sure how good the shifting would be, but compared to my previous setups it's a relatively inexpensive experiment.

Hope Retainer Ring 44T (for 1x setup) - £35
Single ring chainring bolts - £10
Shimano 105 R7000 11 Speed Rear Derailleur Silver Medium (GS) Cage - £33
Shimano 105 R7000 11 Speed Shifter Set Silver Pair - £126
Wolftooth DM - £30
TOTAL - £234

Fitting was fairly straightforward, it seemed. I attached the Roadlink DM to the frame's derailleur hanger, then attach the 105 derailleur to that. I looked at it a few different ways but there's only one way it can fit. The Roadlink DM has a tab sticking out towards the wheel which stops it from rotating downwards as it catches on the derailleur hanger's hook.

But it wasn't quite right. I tried shifting through the gears, but couldn't quite get into the biggest ring. I adjusted the various screws to their limits but it still wouldn't quite go. Then I realised that the derailleur had a spacer in it. Swapping this with the plate attached to the hanger had the effect of moving the whole derailleur inwards towards the wheel by a few mm. That was enough to get the shifting working as it should!

What's it like to ride?

On the first ride I noticed that although the shifting worked properly, the lowest gear was a bit noisy, like cross chaining on a 2x11. Of course that's exactly what it was. I'd fitted the single ring on the outer side of the crank spider (if that's the right phrase), where the larger ring would normally go in a 2x11 setup. It looks neat in this position, but I think the chain line is not right.

I then mounted it with the chainring mounted inside the crank spider, where the small chainring would normally be. It's a bit subjective, but it seems like the gears are now much quieter in the lowest gear. When I'm using this cog and grinding slowly up a hill is when I'm most bothered by noise and drag, so it's a big relief to have it working better. I haven't noticed any chain line problems in the highest gear. Putting the chainring in this position does make it pass rather close to the chainstay. I probably couldn't use a much bigger ring like this, but it's fine for now.

I've now ridden about 500km on the 1x11 setup. I experienced one chain drop, going over a bump when in the highest gear and pedalling backwards (I don't know why), but otherwise the narrow-wide "retainer" ring has done its job well and the setup has been reliable. It has taken some getting used to having a single control for shifting and, especially in the lower gears, the steps between them are larger than I'm used to. Perhaps that would make it unsuitable for racing up hills.

Overall I'm happy with the setup and intend to keep using it for now. I think the thing I appreciate most is the simplicity of that single control. I no longer have to worry about when to switch between the front rings and back the other way on the cassette. One way for higher gears, the other way for lower.

Technology as a climate saviour

2019-09-28T13:05:00+01:00

It shouldn't be news to anyone reading this that human-caused climate change is an issue of great concern for many people. Like most of my generation I've been aware of this problem for a long time. I remember it being taught in school back in the late 80s. Until recently it hasn't been much in the front of my mind. But now that I'm more aware of the serious and urgent climate and ecological crisis we're all facing, I've been asking myself why I wasn't so concerned before.

Partly I thought that governments had the problem in hand or would do shortly. Perhaps I assumed that the small gestures of lifestyle change myself and many of those around me made would help and make enough of a difference or that it would be a long time before there were serious consequences.

But I think I knew that current strategies were not going to be enough. Even once I'd seen graphs like those on the climatelevels.org dashboard I still wasn't seriously concerned. There are probably a lot of reasons for this including the fact that the people around me weren't panicking.

A big part of what I've found comforting, has been thinking that technology would solve the problem of climate change. I enjoy thinking about technology and science, so it's easy for me to get enthusiastic about such things. That enthusiasm can sometimes distract me from the bigger picture and the hard questions about how much a piece of technology helps.

It seems like there is always some amazing technology just around the corner to solve climate change. For example, a lot of carbon dioxide is produced by electricity generation, so replacing this with cleaner alternatives is obviously part of the solution. Any day now a renewable form of energy would make burning fossil fuels unnecessary. If it's not renewable energy it's geoengineering - for example putting reflective particles in the upper atmosphere to cool the planet. If we only wait a few years it'll be fixed.

The trouble is I've been thinking that for 30 years.

We've been told for a long time that nuclear fusion will become a practical source of energy in about ten years, but it doesn't seem to be getting any closer. One day we might be able to extract electricity from waste water, enough to make processing the water energy positive, but that's still theoretical. Geothermal power has huge potential, even in parts of the world you might not expect, but requires huge investment and isn't entirely clean. Reactors based on thorium sound clean, safe and though not renewable, the small quantities of thorium they need are abundant, but at the time of writing these reactors are not available yet.

What about wind and solar? They're already working and don't cause any pollution.

Wind power seems like a safe and clean way to get electricity. We must temper our enthusiasm however with the knowledge that the turbine blades take a lot of energy to build, which means there's a time before the net energy and CO2 invested is paid back. They have a limited lifespan and are difficult to recycle. Also the switches needed to operate them are insulated with SF6 gas which is far more potent as a greenhouse gas than CO2. Inevitably some of it leaks.

Similarly, making a solar panel requires some rare earth metals and a lot of energy, and therefore CO2, for the mining, running and production. Again recycling at the end of life is problematic. Both those sources of power are intermittent - the sun doesn't always shine and the wind doesn't always blow, so you need huge over capacity and battery storage or something else to fill the gaps, assuming you want no interruption of electricity supply. Currently, that something else is usually oil or gas, being easily turn off and on-able. In terms of land-use alone wind and solar are not reasonable solutions on their own. We'd need to destroy huge amounts of the natural world to meet our existing power use.

Each time we learn more about the technology we find problems.

How much longer can I keep believing in a technological fix? Doing so is increasingly looking like a kind of faith and I don't think faith is rational. I'm not saying that these technologies are bad, many of them will be useful as part of a bigger solution, but delaying action on ecological problems in the hope that they'll soon be solved by some promising-sounding technology is rash. It's almost like another form of climate denialism. Not denying that the planet is warming because of human activity, but denying that we need to take action about it now. Half of all emissions have been released since 1988. If we had taken radical action thirty years ago the problem would have been much easier to solve. The longer we put off emissions reductions, the harder it gets and the more people who'll suffer.

Even if the problem of emitting CO2 leading to a warming planet can be solved, there are issues of soil erosion and desertification, water pollution leading to ocean "dead zones", mass extinction of vertebrates and insects. Many of these things have knock-on effects on food security. In modern life it's easy to forget that we don't exist separately from nature, we're part of it. We all eat food, drink water and breathe air and depend on a variety of natural systems to survive. When those systems break down, our survival is at stake.

Governments tend to be short-sighted and concerned with preserving business-as-usual. Current political drama may seem important, but it won't matter in ten years time. Climate change and ecological collapse are only going to get more urgent. We need governments to tell the truth about climate change. We need collective action because individual action is ineffective and only serves to move the focus away from corporations and governments who could make the biggest difference.

I don't have the answers, but waiting around for a technological saviour is not working.

Paris Brest Paris 2019 Photos

2019-09-15T16:44:00+01:00

For those with the stamina, see also my lengthy report of Paris Brest Paris 2019.

(Photos to be reinstated when I've worked out the best way to do it).

Paris Brest Paris 2019

2019-09-05T07:52:00+01:00

It wasn't the first time I'd gone to Paris with the intention of riding the world's oldest and most famous randonee. I set off in 2015 only to "pack", as in pack it in, at Loudeac after less than 450km. When people ask why I tend to say, "I forgot to eat". That was indeed the biggest mistake I made, but I also managed to faff around beforehand, spending three hours at the first feed station. By the time I found myself so hungry that I couldn't eat until I'd rested, it was too late to recover the time.

My preparation for 2019 focused on avoiding those mistakes.

I drew up a spreadsheet and worked out how fast I expected to go on each section. Plenty of people told me that no one ever sticks to their plan, which I've no doubt is true, but at least I'd have some idea of how fast I needed to go. Others told me that obsessive planning would take all the pleasure out of the ride. For me, having a small sheet I can quickly refer to and know how far ahead or behind I am, makes things simpler and calmer. It also helped me to arrange meeting my father who was driving a support vehicle for me, providing fresh clothing, more interesting food options and moral support. Oddly, having a support car made packing more complicated, because the variety of things is possible to take is much greater. Things that may get me out of trouble or make me more comfortable, but that require more thought than a single saddle bag. Secondly I packed two top-tube bags with chewy bars for when other food was unavailable. There are many friendly locals offering food and drink along the route, but not necessarily at the right moment.

All this meticulous planning was almost for nothing when, with five days to go, I couldn't find my passport. I turned the house upside down, checked the bags and clothing I used last time I travelled. I phoned the passport office to learn that the express replacement service could get me a new one in seven days if I went to Peterborough or Glasgow. Maybe it would arrive sooner, but no guarantees. Four years of waiting, planning, qualifying and training. I was upset and angry with no one to blame but myself. Slowly I began to accept that I wouldn't be going. Then I checked one of the bags I'd looked in earlier and found it! Relief!

So after all this, when I finally reached the start line I felt relaxed. OK, maybe a little excited, but calm and ready to ride steadily. I was in an earlier group than last time. H has only two 90 hr groups ahead of it so I guessed there would be a lot of competitive riders going much faster than me. As long as I didn't exhaust myself by trying to keep up with them I was confident I'd be able to stick with my plan to ride through the first night.

The location of the start and finish at Rambouillet was in a large park in the edge of a forest. My group set off into the early evening sun. I waved as I passed my family and the crowds receded. We pedalled through the partial shade of the forest on quiet, smooth roads with only occasional words of encouragement from marshals. I remember 2015 being very sociable, but apart from some Finnish and Brazilian groups talking amongst themselves, no one spoke. Maybe I was in a more serious starting group and everyone was focused on getting a good start or perhaps some of the foreign riders weren't confident about speaking English. I'd learnt to say "hello" in a few languages, but didn't get much response until later in the ride.
After an hour I started to notice riders from the starting groups ahead and behind - G and I. I thought I'd been going fairly fast, but the I group riders must have done the same distance as me but fifteen minutes faster! I thought that was a good reason not to try to follow them and wondered how long they'd keep that pace up. I had made an optimistic "fast" plan as well as a more realistic "slow" plan. The average speeds and times I had to leave each control were on a small sheet on my handlebars.

It was 118km to Mortagne Au Perche so, although it is not a control on the way out, it is a useful place to get food. However I decided that if there were long queues I would get back in the bike and eat something from my well stocked bags. Luckily there was no need to wait and within minutes I had a good sized meal. There were certainly advantages to being ahead of the "bulge". In about half an hour I was back in the bike and taking it a little slower as planned. I was cheered and delighted by the support from the French public and the displays in the villages we passed through. Most had old bicycles painted in bright colours, some even had full glowing bicycles attached high up on lamp posts. Simple enough things, but they made me smile. I went through Villaines La Juhel fairly quickly and onto Tinteniac for a longer rest where I was meeting with my father. It was good to have someone to chat with and relate my experiences so far. He also provided little luxuries like fresh socks and a full phone charge. Though it's fair to say the main reason to use my phone was to keep in touch with him for the next rendezvous.

By the time I reached Loudeac I knew I was doing much better than my last attempt. Not only was it much earlier in the day, but I felt capable of eating, not that terrible bonked feeling that should be avoided at all costs. I changed to a fresh and apparently identical pair of shorts and soon suffered from chafing on my thigh. I still don't know why this happened, but the little sachets of chamois cream my wife had given me were a life saver!

I rode on to unfamiliar roads. Although I was tending to slip behind the fast plan, I still dared to believe I might make Brest that night to reward myself with as much sleep as I could afford. I chatted briefly with a few people along the way. Somehow I ended up discussing power generation with a Swiss guy. He told me that the Swiss were more intelligent about it than the French because they used hydro electric dams to manage demand. I suggested it wasn't so much intelligence but geography that allowed this. Sometime that afternoon I passed the house of a French family who were standing outside and called "Gateaux de Maison!" - Home-made cake. The cake I discovered was made with yoghurt and quite refreshing. I stopped for a few minutes to chat as I'd started to remember how to speak French - at least with a fair bit of gesticulation and lengthy explanations to get around the vocabulary I was lacking. They wanted no payment, but I contributed a few coins, partly to make myself lighter, if I'm completely honest. I was handed a slip of paper with their address on it, so that I could write a postcard to them when I returned home. A promise I still have to fulfil.

Several hours later, on reaching Carhaix I had a full meal. I was surprised to see the control canteen selling bottles of wine and beer. Each to their own, but that was the last thing I wanted at that moment. I tried to be friendly and show off my language skills when an older German chap sat down next to me. I asked "Wie gehts?" to which he responded with a dour monologue. Unfortunately German is not as good as my French and I couldn't understand a word. When he paused for breath I admitted this and we had a laugh and a nice chat in English.

The next stage to Brest was long, dark and lonely. It got colder than I had expected and I stopped a few times to add more layers of clothing. My gears started playing up. This wasn't an entirely new problem. I've had the electronic SRAM eTap since January and on my 600km qualifier the rear dérailleur had twice refused to shift for a period of about twenty seconds. Rather than attempt an uncertain warranty return at short notice before PBP I had decided to put up with the very occasional annoyance. Now it seemed to be happening more often. Equally unnerving, my GPS twice switched itself off without warning, despite having relatively fresh batteries. It came back on, but made me wary. Much of the ride seemed to be in a deeply wooded valley, though I could hardly tell in the dark. All this and tiredness added to a growing sense of unease. When someone called "Bravo!" out of the darkness I nearly jumped with fright as I'd thought there was no one nearby. Eventually, after a very long very gentle climb, I reached the top of Le Roc, after which I knew I'd have a long descent. It was great to get free speed for so long, but it was also rather cold. I kept pedalling in a high gear more to keep warm than to go faster. It was encouraging to see the lights of Brest, but the GPS told me I still had a fair way to go before bed. As I entered the town navigation suddenly got harder and the wonderful reflective arrows that had guided me so far also disappeared. Perhaps they are more likely to be tampered with in urban areas like Brest. I was grateful to have a GPS track to follow as a backup or I may have been wandering around for a while.

Both my plans had me stopping at Brest for six hours, but I'd arrived about three hours later than the fast plan which I wanted to stick with in the hope of finishing on Wednesday evening. Either way I was very glad to have made it so far before sleep - a record for me that took its toll physically, but put me in a good place the next day. After three hours in a proper bed I felt a lot better. Sure, I could've easily slept for another seven hours, but I couldn't have made that time up on the road.

The day was bright and cold as I set off into the rising sun with a few others. The long gentle climb was a pleasant way to warm up. The town of Sizun was full of fun as promised and I paused for an apple pastry and a moment to take in the atmosphere. Clearly the effects of tiredness were starting to catch up with people. I saw riders napping beside the road wrapped in space blankets. I know those things are hard to repack, especially when tired, but I was appalled by how many of them had been abandoned, littering the countryside. At some point in the rolling hills I caught up with a couple from the USA on a tandem. I found out that like my wife and I, they had done their honeymoon on a tandem. In their case when they completed PBP in 2011. This seemed like a funny coincidence as it was my wife and my anniversary that day. My wife Erica is very understanding about my cycling - I had texted her first thing and our daughter had given her my card. I asked if the tandem couple minded me drafting and they said they didn't mind but appreciated me asking. This worked well for me on the flat, but when the road dipped down I had to pedal quite hard to keep up. Once they both tucked in and stopped pedalling I was spinning out in my highest gear and still couldn't keep up. This was fast and good fun but I soon realised a very silly idea during such a long ride. The effort soon made my legs ache and I felt sluggish for some time. I should know better, but sometimes it's tempting after plodding for so long!

Even before this excessive effort I found myself unable keep up with the average speeds I'd set myself. I knew that simply trying harder wouldn't be sustainable, so I tried taking shorter breaks at each control. I ate my own food instead of getting some at Carhaix and bounced through the secret control in the attractive town of St Nicholas. At Loudeac I was meeting my father again, so I messaged him with some food requests. In general food had been much easier to find this time, so I left the second top-tube bag with him as I had plenty of cereal bars spare. Oddly it had been impossible to get a cheese sandwich at any of the controls but Dad went out and bought a nice piece of fromage. He also found me a great falafel salad which was a welcome change from pastries and bread. The troublesome shorts were swapped to a third pair which seemed a bit better, but I still needed to apply the chamois cream at regular intervals. I continued through Tinteniac with the strategy of short stops. Although I felt OK I was getting further behind the fast plan.

I arrived at Fougeres in the small hours nearly three hours behind. At this point I probably should've found a bed and got a good sleep, but instead I took a couple of twenty minute naps in the canteen with my head resting on the table. I think this decision is what made the next 70km to Villaines-La-Juhel the toughest of the whole ride for me. I had eaten plenty, but not had much chance to recover. Setting off into the dark is hard mentally, especially with so far still to go. I'm lucky not to suffer from falling asleep when riding, but I do find myself getting slower as tiredness accumulated. As I rode the temperature dropped and soon I was wearing every bit of clothing I'd brought including a thin balaclava, leg and arm-warmers, a base layer and waterproof jacket. My hands were painfully cold despite full-fingered gloves. I hadn't brought my winter gloves because well, it's August in France. I'm only guessing, but it felt like less than five degrees centigrade. I think I had sun or wind-burnt my lips at some point because they were now rather painful and as my nose was running in the cold, breathing was uncomfortable. To make matters worse my electronic gears deteriorated further. The rear dérailleur would refuse to shift for minutes at a time, causing me much frustration. At some point I realised that going over a bump seemed to temporarily wake it up, so I would aim for whatever tiny pothole I could find in the otherwise smooth French roads. It was probably just as well that I rode this section in solitary as I would've moaned at whoever would listen. Once the sun came up the temperature finally rose a little and I found a patisserie to further cheer myself up.

By the time I reached Villaines I had realised that a Wednesday evening finish was no longer realistic. I had hoped my family would be able to greet me at the arrivee, which would be difficult if I arrived after dark. Now that my ETA was looking rather late there was no point rushing. I could get some sleep on the way back and finish on Thursday morning. With this decision made I relaxed and took a long rest in a town square at Villaines, while my father and a friendly Dutch cyclist puzzled over what to do about my malfunctioning gears. We managed to shift into the third largest sprocket after which I removed the battery from the rear dérailleur to prevent any accidental shifts. I could still use the front dérailleur, giving me two gears. A low one good for most climbs with occasional standing and a higher one good for the flats. That was fine as long as I didn't mind spinning the pedals really fast as my speed increased. I was no longer frustrated by this, but accepted it philosophically remembering that plenty of riders were on fixed gear bikes. Like a few others the Dutch chap disliked my heavy Schwalbe Greenguard tyres. They are a bit chunky and in theory roll more slowly, giving a harsher ride than typical randonneur tyres. The advantage is far fewer punctures, which on a long ride can be utterly demoralising as well as time-consuming. I had discussed the pros and cons at length with my cycling buddy Nick and we both eventually settled on the reliable option. I may have had some disapproving looks, but I'm happy to report no visitations from the puncture fairy!

Now with about 200km back to Paris and 160km until I planned to sleep, the ride seemed more manageable, but another worry surfaced. My right Achilles tendon started twanging. It was only occasionally painful, mostly uncomfortable. I normally point my toes down a bit as I pedal but I found that keeping my foot more level seemed to help. I crossed my fingers that it wouldn't get any worse. Somewhere along the road I met a cyclist called Antonia who's a police officer from South West England. We chatted for a few hours about jobs and kids and a bit about cycling. It was great to have some company and the distance seemed to go quickly. After a while I struggled to keep up. I'd like to claim it was my limited gear range, but I suspect the lack of sleep and sprinting after a tandem the day before was more to blame. As she was planning to finish late that night, we said goodbye and I plodded on alone. As I approached Mortagne the road became hillier. This gave some nice views, but also meant I had to stand up on the pedals for the steeper parts. I had mixed feelings about this. It's tiring for the legs, but gives a bit of relief for the bottom.

At Mortagne I met my Dad again. He congratulated me on how well I was doing. He was right, it was a whole lot better than four years ago! I may have had to give up the fast plan, but I always knew that would be ambitious for me. I never like to think that a ride is in the bag until I'm within walking distance. There are so many small things that could go wrong. It did feel like the end was finally in sight and I had plenty of time. The control was busy and I guessed a lot of people there were aiming to finish that night. After stamping my card, I took the time to brush my teeth, something I'd tried to keep doing regularly, just to feel a bit more comfortable. I found a quiet patch of grass and lay down for a short nap. Someone told me that the next twenty kilometres were hilly but after that it was flat. This turned out to be right. Some of the climbs went on a long time but none were as steep as those I'm used to in Wales and South West England. PBP is certainly tandem, fixed-gear and broken gear-friendly! The surface was variable on the way to the final control. I'd become rather bump-averse by this stage and while the flat gradient allowed consistent progress it meant fewer chances to get out of the saddle and the associated relief. This was a minor gripe however; I was feeling fine. I passed through woodland and fields with the sun setting slowly behind me. It wasn't far to Dreux, but I was so looking forward to food and sleep that it seemed to drag on forever. Some company would have been good, but there was no one nearby. When I paused for a moment a group shot past, but too fast for me.

On reaching Dreux I was once again tired and a bit cold. Perhaps after some food I could have pushed on to Paris that night, but my mind was made up. I knew I'd enjoy finishing much more in the daylight and after sleep. I didn't want a heavy meat dish, so settled for a pasta salad and one of the famous Paris Brest pastries. I thought maybe it was premature to have one, but I had at least been to Brest this time. To be honest the pastry was a little disappointing. More soggy sponge with a faint coffee flavour. I had been concerned that I might struggle to find space to sleep, but when I headed for the vast gymnasium only a handful of beds had been taken. It was cold, so I slept in my clothes and used a travel towel as a blanket. I hadn't had time for a shower so it was at least dry. I shivered through the night, waking several times. When I got up just before 7am the hall was full of snoring cyclists. Seemed I'd timed it right.

I could tell it was going to be a hot day, but heading out it was still really cold, so once again I wrapped up well and gradually peeled off layers over the next hour. The roads were busy now with many small groups of cyclists making a final effort to get to the finish. It was my last chance to say hello to strangers, so I tried my best. I was pleased to get some "Konichiwa's" in return. I didn't think my restless six hours in the hall would've helped me recover much, but I found myself overtaking others more than usual, so maybe I was fresher than I thought.

The last section was a gentle ride through the forest of Rambouillet. I thought how much nicer it was in dappled sunlight than pitch black darkness. I caught a fairly large group and chatted briefly with a couple of people from the North of England. Time passed quickly again and suddenly we were back in the park which cruelly included cobbles at the gate. We'd had very little roadside support that morning, but now we passed plenty of people who had already finished, along with their supporters, so the atmosphere became more lively. Shortly before I got to the finish line I met my wife, daughter and father and stopped for a wonderful hug and photo. Only a few pedal strokes more and it was over.

I was delighted to have finished on time. Not everything had gone right, but it seldom does on such a long ride. There are a few things I would do differently, such as deciding when to sleep. I've realised long distance riding is not like other holidays. How well it goes is down to each individual along with a fair bit of luck. If you don't enjoy it or feel you got what you wanted you can't complain or ask for your money back. I don't know yet whether I'll ride Paris Brest Paris again. I'm going to take some time off the bike to think about the next adventure as well as whether I really want to use electronic gears. For now I'm grateful to have had the chance to experience both failure and success.

My full set of Paris Brest Paris photos are here.

Software Engineering Remote Working - the pros and cons

2019-03-19T18:52:00+00:00

It seems remote working is an option in an increasing number of jobs. Perhaps this is because technology had made it easier to collaborate when not in the same room. Video conferencing, Slack and cloud - based web apps are all but ubiquitous in modern workplaces.

I worked remotely as a software engineer for a year, going in to the office only two consecutive days a month. My experience may not be typical as I wasn't part of a software team in a software company, but rather one of only two engineers in a diverse team within a university. The other engineer had other projects and moved on after a few months so for much of the time I was very much on my own.

Advantages

No time and money spent on commuting

I used this time to do a short bike ride or "circular commute" every morning and take my daughter to her evening sports clubs at least once a week. Neither of these things fit in well with a one-hour commute each way.

Flexibility to receive parcels or repair people at home

Arranging redelivery or relying on a neighbour is inconvenient.

Simpler food options

Leftovers or a quick snack is easy to arrange without the temptation or expense of eating out.

Potentially fewer interruptions

Even if there are others in the house, it was usually possible to close the door during work times and get some peace and quiet. Programming work often requires consistent concentration that can be hard to maintain in a busy office during the middle of the day. The easier tasks seemed to go much more quickly when working remotely.

Emergency childcare

When my daughter has been ill it's reassuring to be at home and close to school rather than at the other end of an unreliable train journey. In a pinch she can nap or watch TV while I work and I can make up for missed time in the evening.

Working elsewhere

I stayed entirely at home when working remotely, but people enjoy the possibility of working in another city or country so that the evenings and weekends are like a real holiday. I like having two large screens and a proper desktop machine, but I did run my work "machine" from an encrypted USB-stick with an Ubuntu install. This worked well apart from when using very high disk-access applications such as Docker. That tends to corrupt the disk somehow and make the system unreliable, so I'd stick with an SSD if using Docker or similar.

Disadvantages

Home heating or air-conditioning

Normally our heating is off in the day, so unless you have a small heater for the space you're working in, then you may need to run it for the whole house which will add to costs.

Limited social interaction

For me this is the biggest disadvantage to working remotely. Not only is it fun to chat with colleagues, but it often leads to a better understanding of the work or opportunities to help out in unexpected ways. Knowing what things other people are working on and their particular set of skills is an essential but often overlooked benefit to working in the same room or building as teammates. Much of this knowledge is transferred in a casual over-heard conversation kind of way, which doesn't always happen on Slack, Skype or email. I was lucky to have a generous holiday allowance, some of which I used to catch up with friends outside work.

Learning the job

For similar reasons to the last point this can be difficult to do remotely. This is why many remote jobs require new starters to work in an office with existing staff for the first few months. If the job is really straightforward or all the documentation is perfect (is it ever?) then in theory you can learn the job from anywhere. For most, however, learning by discussing it with others is often the best way. Getting stuck when working remotely can be a frustrating experience and I often found myself taking a break to empty the dishwasher, partly to experience a feeling of progress that I couldn't achieve with professional work. When working remotely it's also hard to know when it's OK to ask for help. How busy is the other person? Are they irritated by my request? These things are hard to judge when not face to face. On the other hand there is something to be said for not interrupting people when they're deeply involved in a problem, so asynchronous communication like Slack (with No Hello) or Email can help.

Pair programming

I'm sure pair programming can be done remotely, but I can't see it being anything like as easy as sitting next to someone scribbling on bits of paper, waving your hands around and collectively scratching your heads.

When does work start or end?

If you work remotely from home, then it's not always obvious where work starts and ends. This can make it difficult to achieve a healthy work-life balance.

In such flexible workplaces colleagues may work different hours and might expect you to be available at the same time or ask questions after you've finished for the day. I had my work Slack on my phone, so I liked to be readily available whenever my colleagues needed me. Sometimes this was good as I could be instantly helpful even if I'm taking a break. On the other hand, if I'd finished work and was having dinner with my family, the interruption was annoying, yet I'd still be tempted to respond.

Some people will prefer to have strict working times in order to maintain focus and feel fully justified in relaxing at the end of the day. I preferred to start as early as I could and work a rather long day, but take regular breaks for chores or exercise, especially when stuck. Sometimes this approach seems to allow my mind to work on the problem in the background, although I was consciously thinking about something else. That's great when the solution can be found through slow thinking and coming up with creative solutions, but it doesn't work when collaboration is what's needed.

Conclusions

I'm currently enjoying working in an office with my colleagues and plenty of friends in nearby offices. I probably wouldn't do a fully-remote job again unless I already understood the work very well. However, I do appreciate the opportunity to work from home on the occasions that trains let me down, slight illness makes me unwilling to go in or life admin requires that I'm in the house. I'm sure others will disagree and find better ways to collaborate and learn than I did. I'd be interested to hear how other people addressed the issues I described above.

Paris-Brest-Paris pace plan

2019-03-13T20:30:00+00:00

In order to be more organised and hopefully more successful in my upcoming PBP attempt, I've created a planning spreadsheet giving me a better idea of where I should be, when.

Not everyone wants or needs a plan. Some like to keep it as simple as ride, eat, sleep, repeat and that keeps them on track. However, I find it can help to quickly answer questions like: Have I got time to stop and chat for five minutes and take some photos? Can I afford an extra hour's sleep at the next control? If I look for a nice bakery off-route, will I have time for a nap later? Without some idea of where you are against the plan, tiredness can make these simple questions taxing! This is especially true on PBP when the riders around you are often riding on different schedules with different start times.

At the very least I think every rider should know how far it is to the next control and what time they need to leave that control to make it to the next one in time. Last time I failed even that basic check so I didn't realise how far behind I was getting.

I found the spreadsheet helpful when preparing for Mille Cymru in 2018. To make following it simple I scribbled my expected average speed and ETAs on the route sheet. Inevitably the reality doesn't match the plan very well, but having made a plan, it easy to see when the time is slipping. When I started to drift from the plan, I knew what I had to do to regain time - in my case that meant skipping the shower and having a shorter sleep. For PBP I won't have a route sheet, but will probably still keep these targets to hand, maybe taped onto the bike somewhere.

For anyone who'd like to do the same, I'm sharing the link here

How to use the spreadsheet for PBP2019 (90hr group*)

Start by making your own private copy of the spreadsheet either in Google Docs or locally, so that you can edit it as you like.
There are two plans to compare, blue and orange. I use them for my optimistic "fast" plan and the "slow" plan.
You should only need to edit the coloured cells, starting with your start time and date in C2 and L2.
Go down the coloured columns for each plan and fill in your expected average speed for each section and how long you intend to rest at the next control. It doesn't matter whether you include your en-route rests in the resting time or average speed as long as you are consistent and measure it correctly on the road. If your GPS shows only "Moving average", be sure to include extra "resting" time for adjusting clothes, calls of nature, etc. Whereas, if you use "Overall average" when riding, any small stops will naturally reduce your average speed. When deciding how fast you think you can go, it's worth looking at each section of the route to assess the climb/descending, time of day, fatigue, likely conditions, etc. As the sections are not circular, some involve a lot more climbing than descending, so expect them to be slower than average.

How to use the spreadsheet for other events

To use the spreadsheet for other events you'll need to make another copy and edit the control names and distances in columns A and B.

Apart from that the instructions above should still work.

* I've worked out the minimum average speed that makes the finish time work for the 90hr starts and put it in B19 - if you're in the 84hr or 80hr starts, you'll need to increase that number accordingly and make sure the finish time in C17 is correct.

Paris-Brest-Paris training plan

2018-12-21T17:48:00+00:00

For my planned PBP ride next year, one thing that I need to get right is making sure I'm fit enough. None of what follows is scientific, but based on my experience. I think it's better to have a plan and some targets to keep you motivated. This approach got me through my 1000km ride through Wales last summer, so I'm hoping it'll work again. The minimum training anyone has to do for PBP is the qualifying rides - 200, 300, 400 and 600km, which will be good training and practice for reducing faff, but I'd also like to improve my average speed so that I can go fast enough to get a bit more rest or perhaps make the ride more enjoyable by keeping a comfortable time buffer. Secondly, my last qualifier will be finished at the start of June, leaving nearly two months to lose fitness if I do nothing. My guess is that while experiencing at least one 600km ride is good experience, the training benefit of a 200km ride is probably similar. This is just a guess though, maybe there's something about the much longer distances which changes your metabolism or something. I haven't noticed it, though. The downside is that taking a weekend out for a really big ride is disruptive to family life and quickly burns through goodwill. So best not to overdo it.

PBP is a varied course of average hilliness, never quite flat, but not mountainous. Group riding is often possible, so I'll need aerobic endurance as well as enough leg strength to cope with the hills when very tired. So from June I'm planning to concentrate on rides of 200km or less. I'll try to make some of them challenging. Some will be gratuitously hilly, others will be flat and I'll be aiming to maintain a better average speed. As my spare time is limited, often I'll be simply getting out on my bike for a bit, commuting to work or trying some intervals. What I'm not going to do is make a strict day-by-day plan that I'll never stick to and end up getting annoyed at myself.

Jan – Feb

Calculate Lactate Threshold with turbo trainer
1 x tempo session 30-60 mins per month.
1 x 50km+ ride per week (tempo)
1 x 200km+ ride with 1000m+ climbing per month (could count as one of the 50km)
400km and 5000m total per month

Mar - Apr

1 x threshold sessions 30-60 mins each, per month.
3 x tempo sessions 60-90 mins each, per month.
1 x 50km+ ride per week (threshold/tempo)
2 x 100km+ ride (could count as one of the 50km)
1 x 300km+ ride with 2500m+ climbing per month (could count as one of the 50km)
600km and 7500m total per month

May - Aug

2 x threshold sessions 60-90 mins each, per month.
3 x tempo sessions 60-90 mins each, per month.
1 x 100km+ ride per week (threshold/tempo)
1 x 200km+ rides with 2500m+ climbing per month (could count as the 100km)
700km and 11000m total per month.

Paris-Brest-Paris planning

2018-12-21T17:47:00+00:00

I'm hoping to enter PBP shortly and, having failed to complete it in 2015, I'm keen to do everything to ensure I get to Brest and back within the 90 hour "tourist" time limit. I've already made an audax anti-blunder checklist, which is a good start, but obviously wasn't enough last time. So for PBP I've listed some specific things that I need to do better next time. Maybe this will be helpful to someone else. - Be as fit as I reasonably can be - More speed at the same level of effort is going to give me more time for recovery during the ride. So I've made a loose PBP training plan. - Know where the controls are - As PBP is sign-posted, I wasn't so conscious of the route. I didn't get lost, but had no idea how it would be before I could rest/eat. Being able to pace myself to the next control would have helped. I need to have these noted down. - Have a pace plan - This really helped on the Mille Cymru and for the most part I stayed close to my estimates. During PBP2015 I lost time through a number of small incidents - a puncture, big queues at a feed stop, writing a postcard, stopping to help another rider and then needing recovery time after a big bonk. Knowing how far behind or ahead of my plan I was would've helped me stay on track sooner. - Always carry food - Probably the biggest factor last time was not having food easily available. It was never a problem on UK audaxes due to the smaller numbers, but on PBP, despite the well-stocked controls and generous French public, you can't rely on getting food when you need it. In 2015 I think a banana in my back pocket would've made all the difference. My bag was packed full of clothing for a variety of conditions, with no room for food. Next time I'll make room. I'd like to carry at least a cereal bar at all times. Also packets of energy powder that I could put into my water bottles could stave off a bonk. If possible I'll grab a banana when leaving controls and keep it as a backup.

Infinity L2 Bike Seat trial

2018-11-14T22:09:00+00:00

I've tried a number of different saddles some with cut outs, some without. I'm now pretty happy with my usual seat, a Charge Spoon. Happy enough that I've got them on three different bikes. It's simple, cheap and as comfortable as anything I've tried. That's not to say it's perfect. On a long ride I still find myself a little sore from the constant pressure. I notice that I stand up on the pedals as much for relief of my backside as for a different pedalling motion.

If you're not so comfortable, I should point out that there are a lot of things to adjust before changing the saddle. Huge improvements can be made in most cases by tilting the saddle a little or adjusting the bike to balance weight between hands, hips and feet. I've done all the bike fit tweaks and still suspect there's room for improvement on my longer rides.

So I thought I'd try something different. Really different in fact. The Infinity L2 Bike Seat is a very unusual shape. At £295 it's also more than ten times the price of the Spoon. So I found a UK supplier willing to hire them out. Even that is £55 including postage. However, if I'd paid the full price I'd probably be convincing myself it was a great saddle so as not to feel I'd wasted my money!

I won't give a long description of L2, but direct you to the seat's science page. The idea is to remove the two main points of pressure, your sit bones. Instead they're cradled in the space within the outer frame. The official set up video, like all US instructional videos includes the phrase "go ahead and..." about six times per minute. It rushes through some vague measurements and suggests moving the seat post down when fitting the saddle. Oddly, I had to move mine up about 20mm as did other reviewers. I suspect the video is more about promoting the saddle than helping people to adjust it correctly.

Trying it out

I tried the saddle for a week, at first on my turbo trainer, only for about ten minutes. My legs ached. This is probably because I needed to move the seat post up.

That seemed to help and over the next two rides I moved it up a little more and felt more powerful again. I guess a proper bike fit would be needed to get this spot on.

The first good thing I noticed was that bumps and rough ground hurt less. Normally I'd wince or lift myself off the saddle. At first I thought my rear tyre had gone soft, but it was fine. The Infinity bike seat seems to provide more suspension, or maybe it's simply that I'd feel these bumps threatening to bruise my sit bones and the Infinity's large cut-out meant my sit bones weren't in contact with the saddle. I did feel a bit of extra pressure where the inside of my upper thighs rubbed the outer edge of the saddle. I can't say for sure if this would turn into a painful bruise on longer rides nor whether tweaking the angle would improve things.

I don't have any power measurements, but I'd say I rode about as fast as usual for similar effort.

Conclusion

For the two relatively short rides I used this saddle for, I'd say the Infinity L2 was the most comfortable saddle I've tried. Though for reference I'm not a professional reviewer and I've probably only tried about ten different saddles, six of them recently. Secondly, while the Infinity claims to be suitable for a wide range of body shapes, saddles tend to be a matter of personal preference, so your experience is likely to be different to mine. I thought the seat gave comfort where it was needed most, more like being in a hammock than on a seat.

On the downside, the price. Including postage it's over £300 from UK supplier Ten Point. You can buy a basic bike for that. There's nothing obvious in the construction of this seat that would justify that. There are no carbon nanotubes woven with unobtainium. It probably wasn't made in zero-gravity out of unicorn tears. The plastic and leather materials seem similar to those of saddles less than a quarter of the price, that are themselves considered to be premium saddles. What you're paying for, no doubt is the research that allowed this unique design, which was presumably extensive.

A more salient question for the consumer is simply whether the extra comfort is worth it. When riding LEL a cyclist might say they'd pay anything not to have saddle sores and perhaps this saddle would help. But there are many cheaper saddles to try, especially if you take the approach of buying an old one on eBay to see if it works for you and reselling it if it doesn't.

If the Infinity L2 cost £60 I would have bought one. In the end I found a less expensive saddle which is still very comfortable for me.

Cold-call messages from recruiters

2018-09-26T18:55:00+01:00

I direct recruitment agents to this page when they fail to read my profile specifying my job location requirements or perhaps they read it but thought it didn't matter.

Maybe it would be nicer if I took the time to respond to each agent personally explaining my job requirements. The reason I don't is because I get a large number of messages from people suggesting jobs in locations which are unsuitable for me. The agents suggesting these jobs would know where I am willing to work if they'd spent about a minute reviewing my LinkedIn profile or "message to recruiters".

So why don't they?

My guess is that they want to save themselves time.

Perhaps it is easier to grab a list of names of "open" "Python" candidates from LinkedIn and send them all the same personal-sounding message,

"Hi 'Name',
I was really impressed with your career experience and thought you'd be a great match for this job", etc.

Presumably, no reading of career experience has been done by the agent and the only matching which happened was done by LinkedIn's search tools. If the agent had done any of this, they'd also have seen that the job they've suggested is unworkable for the candidate. They've spent barely a few seconds per candidate. How much of my time do they deserve in return?

So recruitment agents let the candidates do the filtering of which jobs are relevant. This scattergun approach makes work for candidates. Often a lot of work. It's not a single recruitment agent doing this, but hundreds. So perhaps they can understand us getting fed up with it.

The whole point of having all that detail on a LinkedIn profile is so that you don't have to explain it to every person who might contact you. If a recruiter ignores it, they are not networking or "reaching out", they are spamming you.

Like all forms of spam, it continues because the cost of doing it is low and the payout from the few times it works is high enough. If candidates ignore an irrelevant message the recruiter loses nothing, but the time of countless candidates is wasted, their concentration broken for nothing.

So I think it's not enough to ignore recruiter spam. I now mute/block recruiters who do this either on LinkedIn or via email.

Sure, I may miss out on later, more relevant opportunities the agent might send out. But remember this is an agent who's already let me know that they don't value my time and can't or won't do simple research for themselves. It's a red flag. Even if they did find me a great-sounding opportunity, they're probably going to waste my time in other ways, for example, by sending me to interviews for jobs I don't have much hope of getting.

In short, they're not the kind of person I'd want to work with.

Mille Cymru 2018 - cycling a thousand kilometres through Wales

2018-09-13T20:46:00+01:00

It's ten past one on Sunday morning as I take a turn signposted to Lake Vernwy via Hirnant Pass. I begin to climb and the drizzle returns. I'm tired and wet. I'm not sure I'm enjoying it, but I remind myself that food and bed is less than twenty-five kilometres away. That feels manageable on a familiar stretch of road.

River Wye, near Elan

We had set off on Thursday morning. It was cool but the forecast warned that 2018's summer heatwave would provide one final scorcher. Sunblock had been applied. The first hills of this 1000km ride were in Shropshire - the Long Mynd and Stiperstones. They're big climbs, but exactly what I was expecting and I enjoyed them. The scenic valley views and fresh legs must have helped. Nevertheless, when we reached a long gentle descent it was a welcome rest.

On a short ride I'm happy enough climbing most hills with a bit of effort. But after doing that all morning it became harder. In the heat of the first afternoon on one especially tough climb I realised I was struggling. I noticed some shade from a tree and I had to stop. I was out of breath and sweating profusely. It looked like I wasn't even halfway up. I had a banana and some water while I got my breath back. After a few minutes I carried on, but I was starting to realise what this ride would be like.

Gospel Pass, looking South

Familiar though the road to Lake Vernwy is, I soon realise that the attractive wooded valleys I enjoyed in the sunshine take on a different character at night in the rain. I find myself uncertain of what is ahead, beyond my pool of light. Bends loom out of the darkness. A small hill turns out to be bigger than expected. Debris on the road appears suddenly.

Each day of this ride so far had involved a few hours riding in the dark. At times this meant slowing down to stay safe, but most of it had been fine with good lights. At night the Welsh roads are even quieter than usual and once away from towns most of the traffic was other riders. Once I mistook a light up in the sky for an aeroplane only to realise that it was a bike ahead - and we had a big climb coming. A guy I was riding with optimistically suggested that "He might not be with us". I chuckled wondering "Who else is weird enough to be riding out here at this time of night?"

Most of the surfaces had been good too. The only truly rough section was the sandy track and wooden bridge at Barmouth. Crossing the exposed estuary I felt the side wind blasting me and there was little chance to enjoy the views of the river. With one eye closed to keep out the sand I dodged pedestrians and wobbled my way across. It seemed frustratingly slow, but in truth it only took a few minutes.

I know the last climb before the lake will be Hirant Pass itself. I remember how the valley which precedes it opens out giving a clear and intimidating view of the mountain. I won't see that tonight, but I'm anticipating that valley to gain some feeling of progress beyond looking at a number on my SatNav. I keep thinking it will be around the next corner but I repeatedly find another wooded dip and climb, the occasional field.

Despite having ridden numerous audaxes in Wales over the last few years, I found plenty of scenery that was new to me. The Pembrokeshire coast was interesting with its endless small ups and downs, each dip revealing another seaside town, complete with sandy high street, wandering tourists and a sharp climb to leave the town. The tunnels along the scenic coastal path added variety to the route. Equally unknown to me were the flat beaches of Borth where we enjoyed the novelty of long straight roads and a consistent tailwind. Much of Snowdonia I had not seen in the daylight, but I enjoyed Llyn Cwellyn sparkling in the sunlight and Mount Snowdon hiding ominously in the clouds. On the way to Llanberis I was lucky enough to catch the stunning vista across Llyn Padarn as the sun set.

Sunset near Llanberis, Llyn Padarn in the valley, Snowdon in the clouds to the right.

I pass another rider, stopped in a driveway adjusting clothing. I mumble a greeting, but I can't recognise him in the dark. For the most part I'm alone, but aware that there are others probably only a few minutes behind. I'm content to continue at my own pace, slow enough to keep going, but fast enough to keep warm.

I don't have much experience of riding further than 600km and, as I had failed to complete Paris Brest Paris in 2015, I was determined to plan this ride more carefully. For the first time I'd even made a pace plan in a spreadsheet by looking at each stage and trying to work out how long it would take me depending on the distance and hills I'd climb. I scribbled the target average speeds and estimated arrival times in the route sheet so I could easily keep an eye on how I was doing. My usual audax pace feels like a gentle hurry. Never quite relaxing or pausing for too long, but not sprinting or putting in any big efforts. I don't think I'm very competitive and I've never raced but somehow I often find myself giving chase when another rider passes me. It seems to happen without me even realising I'm speeding up. A few minutes later I'd notice that I'm puffing and my legs are aching! It may be the right speed for the other audaxer at that moment, but that doesn't mean it's right for me. I think it's better to listen to my body and stick to a comfortable pace in order to feel stronger later, even if it takes a conscious effort to do so.

A gust of wind blows rain into my face. I'm suddenly exposed, in the wide valley before Hirnant Pass at last. Carefully over a cattle grid then I start the climb. It's not too steep at first and I continue steadily. I take an occasional look over my shoulder to see a couple of lights some way below me. I wobble erratically and decide my curiosity can wait. I concentrate on keeping the bike going straight. The rain and gradient increase and I decide to get off and push. It isn't the first time on this ride.

I had decided that for really steep climbs it was worth getting off to push the bike and avoid making an unsustainable effort. It isn't much slower and probably uses different muscles or something. That's my excuse anyway. The Devil's Staircase on the morning of the second day was at least 25%, so I walked that. A couple of riders overtook me, but I didn't mind. My second unmanageable hill was on the way out of Aberystwyth. I'd guess it was 1 in 3. I know some brave souls rode up it, but I didn't. The next impossibly steep incline was a surprise in the dark. Having thought I'd done all the big climbs of Snowdonia I confidently powered up a small steep bit on the way to Ffestiniog. Except it wasn't small. The steep bit continued for several minutes and eventually I realised I was panting and my legs were aching. I hobbled along until the gradient eased and I rode slowly up the rest of the mountain. The headwind coming over the dark, bleak summit made this one of the tougher parts of the ride.

Near Beddgellert

At the top of Hirnant Pass I get back on the bike. A couple of others are waiting for a friend. There is still a lot of weather happening. Keen to keep moving, I press on.

Hills don't make for easy group cycling; riders don't benefit much from drafting as they tend to climb and descend at different paces. It seems to me there's a kind of unwritten rule for audax that if you're riding faster and leave someone behind that's fine, it's nothing personal. It's good to check people are OK if they've had a mechanical or seem unwell. But in most situations people understand the importance of riding at your own pace which may vary as the terrain and energy levels change. Unless I've planned to ride as a group I prefer to go at the speed that feels right and rely on serendipity to provide occasional company. Happily, I did manage to chat to several people, some of whom had completed the event before. I don't mind long periods of solitude, but it's always interesting to hear how other people plan and ride events like this, to hear someone else's life story or even make new friends.

Pembrokeshire, Near Broad Haven

The section through Monmouth to Tintern was relatively flat so we formed a small group sharing the wind and made good progress. After a hot day it was pleasant riding in the dappled shade beside the river Wye.

I was also happy to help one other rider who was missing a route sheet for part of the ride. Without a GPS either he was a bit stuck, so I suggested we rode together into the second night. It was good to have some company, even when we were tired and not inclined to chat much.

I remember the descent to Lake Vernwy as a swooping joy in the daylight. Now it's treacherous. I have good lights, but I still can't see enough. I try to choose between keeping my rain-covered glasses on or taking them off and half-closing my eyes to cope with the stinging drops. I round each corner cautiously. Small rocks are scattered across the road. This should be the fast bit, the payback for the big climb, but my speed is never more than 20mph. My hands ache from the braking. I reach the T-junction at Lake Vernywy glad to know that the road ahead is flat. I feel like I'm going fast now, but the road carries on and on. This lake must be bigger than I remember. In addition to the rain there's plenty of water coming up from the road. I'm glad I decided to put my mudguards back on. My jacket is doing its job well, but my hands, feet and legs are wet.

I had already been drenched that afternoon. I was chased by rain clouds up the West coast and they finally caught me around Harlech. I stopped to put my jacket on, but didn't have full waterproofs. The downpour was heavy, but brief. I thought afterwards that I should've run for the cover of a bus shelter or tree, but I was so intent on making progress that it didn't occur to me until I was already soaked. Luckily I wasn't too cold and I dried out over the next few hours riding in sun and wind to Snowdonia.

Elan Valley

Where is the control? It can't be far now. If I can keep going at this pace I'll keep warm enough for a while, but I'd like this bit of the ride to be over now so I can have some food and rest. Did I mention that it's raining?

Sometimes I'd think I could make up some time at the next control. I would intend to stop only briefly, have a light snack and eat more on the road if I needed it. But more often than not, I was tempted to stay longer by the good hot food on offer, especially the fruit crumbles which I cannot refuse.

There are occasional small branches in the road which I dodge easily as there's no traffic about; I haven't seen a car for hours.

Aha, the dam! I'm at the far end of the lake, the control must be close. I slow down for a bend and downhill slope. I don't know if the puddles hide potholes or gravel. My reaction times are slowed and I'm feeling a bit stiff, so better to play it safe. The road straightens out and I see the corner shop where my left turn is. A couple of hundred metres at most. I pedal out of the saddle briefly to keep the bike going up the small slope, then I'm around the corner and coasting into the school. Volunteers with umbrellas welcome me inside.

The food is simple, but it's hot and it tastes wonderful.

Six hours earlier I had devoured a generous veggie grill at the lively "Pete's Eats" in Llanberis. Actually, that's not quite true - I left half of it. I was unsure about eating so much in one go having suffered from heartburn over the last few days and taken plenty of antacids. I don't have a strong stomach and it sometimes complains at the volume of food required for audaxing with little time to sit and digest. For me it's a careful balance to avoid ever being completely full or empty. Luckily the veggie grill didn't cause me any issues, maybe because the next climb was Pen-y-Pass, which was long but relatively gentle.

Irfon Valley early morning

Sitting in the quiet school at Lake Vernwy I'm still a little damp, but without a change of clothes. I strip down to my long-suffering shorts and find a blanket and air mattress for some sleep.

Sleep had been limited on this ride. With only 75 hours to complete the route and much of it slower than my predictions, it was the sleep stops that got squeezed. On the first night I arrived at Llanwrtyd Wells a while after my planned arrival time. The four hours of sleep I had been looking forward to would have to wait. Two would do. I still wanted a shower. It would take more time, but it had been a hot day and I reasoned that this and a fresh pair of shorts might make me more comfortable over the next few days.

Amazingly, I discovered that even a couple of hours sleep is far better than none. I didn't feel totally refreshed and energetic getting up in the mornings, but the sleep did give me a bit of strength back. More importantly, I felt alert enough to cycle safely at all hours.

I'm startled awake as someone drops their phone on the wooden floor near my head. It's half five. I don't need to leave until seven. I get a bit more sleep, pull on my wet clothes and enjoy some hot porridge to fortify myself for the weather. After more faffing than usual I head out into the rain. Straight up another hill. That's no bad thing; it feels good to warm up a bit. About 70km to the arriveé and not so many hills. With little energy or enthusiasm to speed along I plod through the wet and think back on what has been an amazing ride.

We'd experienced such variety in one small country. Rural Wales is beautiful and full of adventure. The dark and bleakness of Snowdonia's mountains at night. The stillness and peace in early morning sunshine near Abergwesyn. Small seaside resorts in secluded bays. Remote farms nestled in their own private valleys. Castles overlooking huge estuaries. The many folds of the Elan valley with wind alternately helping and hindering.

Wild and wonderful. A little rain couldn't spoil that.

As it turns out the rain eases off as I approach Shrewsbury and join a couple of other riders. We're comfortably within the time limit now. With the exception of a couple of navigational errors in the town for which I take full responsibility, it's a relaxed ride back. We're joined by more riders converging on the tiny town hall. At the arriveé we get a warm welcome from organiser John Hamilton and warm food from helpers. People aren't cheering or jumping for joy, but there are plenty of big grins on weary faces. Those who've done the ride before seem to feel the same - tired, relieved, proud and elated.

Sleep data analysis - conclusions

2018-08-03T13:33:00+01:00

I now have 433 days worth of data about my sleep. Although some of it is a bit subjective, I think it's good enough to give me an idea and a whole lot better than the guesswork I was using before. It seems to be enough that some noticeable correlations are forming.

In order to be sure I'm not looking at noise and that I'm focussing on the most important things which affect my sleep, I'm only going to look at the most significant factors.

The correlations are against "missed sleep" which I defined before, so negative correlations show things which are good for my sleep.

The following were good for my sleep:

AM exercise (0-5) -0.178
Total Ex 5 days -0.174
Sugar (1-5) -0.115

The following seemed to have a bad effect on my sleep, though as you can see from the numbers, not very strongly:

Evening meal finish 0.078
Excitement (1-5) 0.117
Exercise after 6pm (0-5) 0.127

The following seemed to have no significant effect either way: Daylight hours, ZMA, Evening meal size, Worry, Screen after 6pm. For me that's enough to encourage me to make the following lifestyle changes in the hope of better sleep. I think this will be more personalised and useful to me than generic sleep hygiene.

Keep exercising, but mainly in the morning
Not to worry about evening screen time. It might affect some people, but doesn't seem to stop me sleeping
Try to eat early in the evening, but not worry about the size of the meal

How to write a great bug report

2018-07-25T08:09:00+01:00

"My client has a problem with a file"

The above is the full text of an actual bug report received by a former colleague of mine. She could've contacted the person who raised the report asking him to tell her "Which client?", "Which file?", "What kind of problem?", "Which system were they using?" or any other number of essential pieces of information. As my colleague had a list of bug reports numbering three figures, instead she shrugged and moved on to a report with better information. No doubt the person who raised that report was also very busy, but they only wasted their own and others' time by raising such an unhelpful report. I think that when reports like this are commonplace it suggests that there are some misunderstandings about communication between developers and users.

Can't the developer just ask me for more information?

Perhaps the user whose client had a problematic file was only intending his very terse report to start a conversation. That's natural enough. When someone visits the doctor and says, "I feel unwell" they don't expect a diagnosis straight away, rather a series of questions from the doctor to gain an insight into the patient's illness. That's fine when both parties are sitting next to each other discussing it. When they are working in different offices, maybe different time zones, then it becomes a painfully slow process. If a developer asks for more information and the user is in a meeting or asleep, they can't simply sit around waiting for a response, they're forced to work on something else, with the associated cost of context switching. Sure, sometimes further questions may still be needed, but the user can jump-start that process with a clear report.

Surely the developer knows what I mean?

Users may have the impression that the software engineer knows more about the software than they do. Software engineers may spend lots of time looking at code but much less, if any, time using the software. Users are the experts at how the software works as they often use it day in and day out. Their insights about how it works and how it should work are invaluable to developers. Sadly they are often left out of bug reports on the assumption that developers already know everything that users know.

The developer must be aware of this bug already!

A bug report might be seen by some as an official way to force a developer to fix an issue that they already know about. Again, this isn't usually the case. If a developer discovers an issue, they'd normally raise a bug report for it, even if they didn't have time to fix it immediately. Everyone who raises reports should also be able to search the list of bugs to see if anything similar has already been reported. If the bug isn't listed in the database, it's likely that no one else knows about it. If it is, then there's no point creating a duplicate. Raising a duplicate report only creates confusion. Instead the user should be able to update the existing bug report perhaps to say, "This is also affecting client X" or "I have observed the issue on Sundays as well as Bank Holidays.". This extra clue may make fixing the bug easier.

What does a good bug report look like?

If you write helpful bug reports, with a few minutes of your time you could save the developers hours, if not days, of their time.

You do want this fixed quickly, right?

Where developers can choose what to work on next, they'll naturally prefer quick wins. Thorough yet concise bug reports focus the developer on a solvable problem. Vague ones feel like being asked to find a needle in a field full of haystacks.

Now I've lectured you on why it's important to write good bug reports, here are my suggestions of their most important features. This list is generalised. For certain projects there may be additional essential information.

Search for any similar bug report - If found, optionally add to it. Do not create a duplicate. If unsure, link to the original.
A short, descriptive title - Enough to distinguish it from similar issues. Probably 4-10 words.
Include all relevant details - e.g.: Server, product, client(s) affected, file type, time of day, web browser version. Make that haystack smaller!
Steps needed to reproduce the issue - A developer may not know how to reproduce the issue. If they can't do that they probably can't fix it and definitely won't know whether they've fixed it.
Expected result - Make it absolutely clear what you wanted the software to do. e.g.: "Display the total number of rows the uploaded file has at the top of the page."
Actual result - Again this ensures clarity when compared to the above. e.g.: "Null is displayed and the menu-bar disappears."

Those are the essentials. If you have time to investigate further then any other clues you can add are a bonus. For example, insights like these may also be helpful and speed up the process of debugging.

"This only happens on days immediately following bank holidays"

"It worked on Friday 4th, but failed on Monday 7th"

"It only affects admin users".

I hope my suggestion helps users to get bugs fixed more quickly and developers to enjoy fixing them more.

Email campaign groups and charity

2018-07-24T19:11:00+01:00

While there are no doubt many worthwhile causes that I agree with promoted by groups like 38degrees, there are some that I don't agree with or don't think are worth supporting.

The problem is how to decide which is which.

I'm not willing to blindly trust any organisation to decide on my behalf what is worth campaigning for by giving my support after only reading a brief email. I know we're all inclined to believe simple ideas without much skepticism* if they align with our existing beliefs and I'm wary of making quick judgements that might reflect my existing biases more than careful consideration would.

The trouble is that I often find careful consideration of a new issue utterly exhausting. Most of these issues aren't obvious black and white judgements - if they were no one would have to lobby government or businesses to get things changed. It requires time and a bit of intellectual effort. The volume of emails produced by most campaign groups, Avaaz, 38 degrees or others, are impossible to keep up with for anyone with a job, family, social life and regular exercise.

For me the same argument applies to charity cold-calling. I never sign up to anything on the doorstep or street. I already have regular charity commitments and make one-off donations to sponsor friends - should I change these when a representative of another charity knocks on my door? The answer depends on questions like how efficient the charity is, what they've achieved recently, if they've been involved in any scandals and how closely they align with my values. Not something I can judge in a five-minute or even half-hour conversation.

I admit that by refusing to consider every cause or charity that asks for my support I may be missing out on something I'd consider very worthwhile. I'm not saying I'd never explore new causes or charities, but the burden of choice means I'd prefer to start with a recommendation from a friend or trusted colleague or a subject matter I already know something about.

This might all be made simpler by having some independent reviewer of charities providing open and accessible comparisons of their finances and achievements. Until it becomes a lot easier to decide my default answer will be a simple, firm "No, thanks".

* - I prefer Noah Webster's "American" spelling of skepticism.

Garmin eTrex 30 review

2018-07-08T19:24:00+01:00

I've been using the Garmin eTrex 30 for navigation and to record my rides for four years now. I like it a lot, but I don't think it's the GPS for everyone. Here's my review.

Design and appearance

To be brutally honest, the eTrex is a chunky lump to put on your handlebars. If it was writing a lonely hearts ad it might describe itself as "rugged". The device sticks up a good 45mm from the handlebars. It's about 100mm long and 55mm wide. It can't even pronounce the word aerodynamic. The colour probably won't match your bike.

The reason it is a bit plus-sized is to fit two AA batteries and a 44x35mm screen. The wider reason for the form-factor is that the eTrex 30 is not aimed at racers, time-trialists or triathletes. It's intended for hikers, sailors and touring cyclists. It is also very popular with audaxers like me.

Around the edge are five small rubbery buttons: Menu, Up, Down, Back and Light/On-Off. These need a firm press which can take a couple of tries in winter when I sometimes wear ski gloves, but I'd prefer this to them being flimsy and getting pressed by accident.

The screen is not touch-sensitive. Instead, on the top is a 4-direction "joystick". It can also be pushed in to select items. Selection in this way is a bit tricky and it is easy to "miss" when trying to push the stick in and ending up pushing it up or down or doing nothing. I find this the same whether I'm wearing gloves or not. However, I'm seldom in a rush when using this button and I only tend to need it two or three times a day. I find that as long as I'm patient and pay attention to where I'm going the button does the job nicely. If my smartphone had an interface like this I'd hate it, but it doesn't bother me on the GPS.

Features and function

The etrex 30 can be used for a lot of other activities like hiking, sailing, etc. It has a load of features I've never used, like a "Man Overboard" button. I can't tell you about those features, as I've only ever used it for cycling.

I followed some very thorough etrex 20/30 setup advice and went for a simple system of two screens, one for the map, one for the numbers - time, distance, average speed, battery level, etc. You can choose which fields you want and have them in various layouts. I switch between the two screens using the back button which is quick and easy.

The main thing I use this for is guessing when I might arrive at the next control. If my average speed has dropped but my elevation is high, then I can expect to gain some speed when I descend. Arguably maximum speed is more for entertainment than anything else. Total ascent can be useful when Everesting or chasing AAA points.

I also put two boxes like these at the top of my map screen - Overall Ave. and Distance. You can have four boxes, but it starts to obscure the map a bit. With the help of the up and down buttons on the top left edge of the device (see image above) the map can be zoomed in or out much further than you're likely to want. I use 120m scale for towns and 200/300m for countryside. If you get lost you can also scroll across the map using the joystick, but this is a bit clumsy and slow to update.

You can buy or find additional online maps, but I found those that are built-in to be fine for the UK.

When I've planned a long ride I usually copy a GPX file onto the device so I have something to follow for navigation. You can use the "Follow route" feature which provides a thick pink line as well as some peak and valley icons which don't seem very accurate to me. For simplicity I prefer to simply "Show on map" and select a colour that I find easy to see. I prefer dark blue or red (see below).

I don't get any warnings or beeps if I go off-route, but with an audax routesheet alongside I find navigation pretty easy.

However, this is where you have to be a bit careful on longer rides. There is a track point limit and if you go over it, the end of the route will be cut short. I discovered this halfway through a 300km ride to my alarm. Thankfully I also had a routesheet. I'm not sure exactly what the maximum number of track points is, but it's definitely less than 5000 and more than 4000. I've since learnt several ways to get around this and I always use the "View map" option on the GPS to check my routes are about the right length after I've copied them across. If I use a tool to reduce the number of track points the route often ends up slightly shorter - say 98.6km instead of 100km due to the way the reduced route takes shortcuts across the bends in a road (see image). So I aim to reduce to 4000 track points to get the smoothest track without risking the eTrex cutting off the end. For routes longer than 200km I'd prefer to split the route into several sections.

Like most GPSs the eTrex 30 records the track you travel on for Strava or other ride-recording tools. What I found different to the Edge 500 was that once it's set up the eTrex records all the time - no need to press start. You can save your track to another file or clear the current track, but it will keep recording. If you turn the device off or even change the batteries it will resume recording when you turn it back on. If you've moved while it was off it draws a straight line between the points. What this means is that you need to remember to clear the current track before you start a new ride. That way it doesn't include your car/train/plane journey!

Note: If you're concerned that your total ascent figure is as accurate (and large!) as possible when uploading from an eTrex to Strava, I've made some scripts to fix the way the altimeter data is read.

Other features

Takes 2xAA batteries which are available anyhere. Rechargeables work fine.
Good battery life - I've had Eneloops last well over 24 hours.
Can be powered (but not charged) via USB.
Mini-USB data connector.
Can display HR and cadence if attached via ANT.
Secure bike mount available and lanyard attachment point.
Reliable - never had a crash or loss of data in four years.

Conclusions

I previously used a Garmin Edge 500. The Edge 500's navigation was very basic, consisting only of a wiggly line, no map and a buzz when you're off course... or the GPS signal has failed. But most annoyingly the Edge 500 has a non-removable Lithium Ion battery that I could never get more than 12 hours out of. While charging on the go is theoretically possible with the right kind of cable, I always found that this reset my route. As I understand it, most of the Edge series (apart from the Edge Touring) is designed for training rides where you might want to record HR, cadence, power, etc, but not ideal for audax/touring.

When all I want is to record my ride and it's less than an hour long, my phone is simpler. But on longer rides I like to conserve my phone's battery in case of emergencies. I haven't tried every GPS out there, but in spite of the user interface quirks already mentioned, I'm very happy with the eTrex 30 for touring and audax.

This is not a tour 400A photos

2018-06-03T16:24:00+01:00

Photos from TINAT 2018 will be added when I have worked out the best way to display them.

Why I'm riding "This is not a tour"

2018-05-31T10:21:00+01:00

This weekend I'm riding the 400km on and off-road audax in the style and memory of Mike Hall. My motivation for this ride is similar to the reason I ride audaxes in general, but with the added variety of off-road sections. I'm interested in the question, "How much harder will that be?". I met Mike only briefly, but I think this kind of event is what he would have wanted to inspire.

Long distance cycling is something I've got into over the past five years. Whenever I've mentioned one of my rides to friends I get bewildered responses ranging from admiration to horror. A lot of people ask if I'm doing it for charity.

"No" I say, "I'm doing it for... fun?".

Yes, fun. I enjoy planning the route, deciding what clothing, lights and bike maintenance kit I should take. I enjoy the challenge of not knowing whether I can finish within the time limits. I enjoy the peace and solitude exploring deserted country lanes. I enjoy chatting with other riders. Sometimes I'm winding my way up a hill, sometimes I'm concentrating on a tricky descent. Sometimes I'm ambling along, sometimes I'm pushing to go as fast as I can. I enjoy the freedom of roaming and of self-sufficiency. I enjoy getting away from it all, relaxed but focused on the ride.

I'm not claiming that every journey is smooth and full of picture-postcard scenery. Things go wrong. Punctures happen, wrong turns happen, lights fail. Headwinds, achy legs and cold temperatures conspire against an easy ride. On most rides I'll have a "low point" when I'm fed up, uncomfortable or hungry. Getting through that and whatever other challenges the ride may throw at me is part of the challenge and the reason I feel elated if I finish.

And I don't always finish in time. If I always succeeded I'd wonder if I was limiting myself to easy challenges. Failure is a good way to learn, even though it hurts at the time.

I'm sure most of my bewildered friends take on similar challenges. Things which take unusual mental or physical effort, which take us away from the humdrum of everyday life. Things where success is not guaranteed, where temporary discomfort is tolerated to reach a goal. Everyone's challenges are different, but we all need to be challenged.

Can you relate to that?

Commuting to Bristol in photos

2018-02-01T21:43:00+00:00

I've spent a few years infrequently commuting to Bristol through the year. I've now left that job, so thought it would be interesting to share the photos taken on my usual routes.

These photos are hosted separately on Google Photos.

Audax training plan

2018-01-15T15:09:00+00:00

I've got some longer audaxes planned this year, so I thought I should actually have a training plan for once. I've avoided stating exactly what ride I'll do on what day as I know life is likely to get in the way, but I still have some targets which I think are reasonable. Perhaps publishing it here will keep me honest!

Jan - Feb

1 x interval session (outside or turbo) 30-60 mins per month.
1 x 50km+ ride per week (could turbo)
2 x 100km+ ride with 1000m+ climbing per month (could count as two of the 50km)
400km and 5000m total per month

Mar - Apr

2 x interval sessions (outside or turbo) 30-60 mins per month.
1 x 50km+ rides per week (could turbo)
2 x 100km+ ride (could count as one of the 50km)
1 x 200km+ ride with 2500m+ climbing per month (could count as one of the 50km)
600km and 7500m total per month

May - July

2 x interval sessions (outside or turbo) 30-60 mins per month.
1 x 100km+ rides per week (could turbo)
2 x 200km+ rides with 2500m+ climbing per month (could count as the 100km)
1 x 300km+ ride with 4000m+ climbing per month (could count as one of the 200km)
900km and 12000m total per month.

UPDATE 10th August 2018

Now that I've completed the two big rides - 400km and 1000km, I thought I'd mention what I would change about this plan.

The first thing is that a lot of longer rides probably aren't needed. As it turned out life got in the way and it was near-impossible to fit in all the long rides I had planned. It's subjective, but I don't feel like a 200km ride gives much more training benefit than a hilly 100km ride, especially if you do at least half of the 100km before having breakfast. 200km+ rides are really disruptive as I needed to take a day away from family at the weekend, or book a whole day off work. 100km can be done in half a day and if you start early, being back by lunchtime is possible. I do think it's worth doing at least one 200km+ ride in a longer training period, just to get familiar with the effects of fatigue on speed and rest times, but I don't see any real training benefit.

Secondly, I think interval sessions are great. I really felt like I got a lot of benefit from them in a short space of time and this was confirmed by my sleep monitor in terms of a lowering resting HR and physical recovery. So next time I'd do more of that.

The monthly distance and climbing targets were worth having as they did get me out on the bike regularly, though I might reduce them a bit next time.

I've also set out an updated training plan for PBP 2019, based on my lessons learned and aiming to improve my average speed.

Sleep: What am I trying to measure?

2017-10-15T11:16:00+01:00

My last post about analysing my sleep data had plenty of caveats, but despite my caution I started to wonder whether I was taking an interest in the right variables.

I'm aiming to sleep better for health and to feel more alert during the day. My first thought was to find out what influences how many hours I sleep each night. This was a guesstimate of my hours of sleep based on roughly when I fell asleep and woke up, minus any trips to the bathroom or time spent starting at the ceiling in frustration. Then I'd compare this to various lifestyle measures like how much I'd eaten, exercise, screen time, etc to see what, if anything correlated with a long sleep. Despite buying a gadget to help measure it, I'm not sure I have a more accurate measure of sleep quality, so approximate time asleep is what I tried.

However, I've realised that there are several ways in which "Hours that night" as I call it might not be the most useful measure. For example, there are times when I can't get a full night's sleep no matter how well prepared my body is for it. Sometimes I have to get up early for work, to go on holiday or because I have an audax that starts at 6am. Occasionally my daughter is ill and will wake me up several times. These things are thankfully rare, but could skew the results. I could simply delete any results where my maximum possible sleep was less than six hours, but this leaves less extreme cases.

I also recorded the maximum possible hours I could get each night. In my spreadsheet I subtracted the "Hours that night" from this to get "Missed sleep", thinking that would be a better measure. On the other hand, if I can only get three hours maximum and I miss none, is that really better than having a Saturday lie-in for up to nine hours, but only sleeping for eight, meaning missed sleep is one hour? Who knows how many hours I might have got if I'd tried to sleep for more than three hours?

So I tried working out some kind of scaling adjustment, so that "missing" one hour out of a possible nine gives a better score than missing one hour out of a possible seven. I could ignore anything over eight hours as most people are unlikely to sleep that long unless they've missed out on sleep the night before. But that makes a hard cut-off, which feels wrong.

So I've come up with a simple scaling algorithm which looks like this:-

def missed_sleep_scaled(row):
    useful_max = min(target_sleep, row['Max possible (hrs)'])
    if useful_max == float(0):
        # result is invalid.
        return -1
    max_expected_hours = min(target_sleep, row['Max possible (hrs)'])
    useful_missed_sleep = max_expected_hours - min(row['Hours that night'], target_sleep)
    if useful_missed_sleep <= hours_noise_threshold:
        useful_missed_reduced_noise = float(0)
    else:
        useful_missed_reduced_noise = useful_missed_sleep
    return float(10) * useful_missed_reduced_noise / useful_max

This "sleep score" correlates less strongly with "Max possible (hrs)" than "missed sleep" did (0.104 vs 0.198). That seems like a step in the right direction. I'm uncertain about whether I should tweak it until it doesn't correlate with "Max possible (hrs)" at all.

Some sleep correlation data

2017-08-20T18:10:00+01:00

You may have read my previous post that I'm trying to use data to work out why I'm sometimes not sleeping well and how I might sleep better. I've been doing that now for some 86 days and I'm excited enough to look at the data and see if anything interesting has shown up. Ideally I'd like a year's worth of data to get reliable results, but I'm impatient.

You may be wondering why the title of today's post is so undramatic, prosaic even. Well, I'm rather a newbie when it comes to statistics and I don't want to leap to conclusions from the first thing I try. As you'll see from my GitHub project, all I've done so far is to read in the data and use Python Pandas to produce the correlation results. I then pasted this into a spreadsheet, sorted and highlighted some rows.

I'm also wary that correlation does not imply causation. But it does make for an interesting start.

With those caveats out of the way, this is what I've got so far.

Plain correlation from the first 86 days of data

The factor I'm hoping to maximise is "Hours that night" - how many hours I sleep on a night after all those potential influences have been measured. So I'm interested in things which might be positive or negative influences on that.

The top two I've put in grey, as I think they're not very interesting, except to show that the correlation function seems to be working as expected. - "Max possible" is low when I have to get up very early, say to travel somewhere, so it's always going to limit my sleep. - "Av hrs past 5 days" is a rolling average of "Hours that night" over the last 5 days. That I'm more likely to sleep if I've built up a huge sleep debt recently is unsurprising, but also confirms that the model seems reliable. - ZMA and FOS are two supplements I've been taking recently which are said to help with sleep, the ZMA particularly for those doing a lot of exercise. Evidence is limited and I'm not keen on trying every eccentric treatment "because you never know", but they're cheap and the side-effects are trivial. However, I've only been taking these for a couple of weeks, so I don't think there's enough data to say if they have helped me.

Eating

If I had guessed I would've expected "Evening meal finish" - the time at which I finish dinner to have had the greatest negative effect on my sleep as I often wake early feeling boated if I've eaten late. It does seem to be a negative factor, along with "Evening meal size (0-5)". I'll aim to eat earlier and keep recording results.

Alcohol

This wasn't a significant factor for me. This is supposed to make you fall asleep later but wake up too early, losing sleep overall. Anecdotally, I have found to be true for me. However, I drink quite rarely and haven't had more than four units a day in any of the last 86 days, so my stats so far may not say much about that.

Daylight, Sugar, Screen time, Fasting

I'm recording these as they've either been blamed for bad sleep or hailed as a helpful thing. They don't seem to be a big deal for me. I may consider stopping recording them so I have more time/space for other data.

Worry, Excitement

It interesting that these have some negative effect on my sleep, but as they're all-day values, there's probably not a huge amount I can do to control them.

Exercise

I am surprised and, if I'm honest, disappointed to see "Exercise (1-5)" as such an apparently bad influence on my sleep. Studies have suggested that exercise should have a positive effect on sleep, but that may depend on intensity. For me, and exercise score of 1 indicates a day where I didn't walk for more than 15 mins and did no other exercise, 2 a normal day where I cycle to/from the station, about ten minutes each way, 3 is a bike ride of up to 3 hours or a 20-min weights/callisthenics session, 4 is a 3-6 hour bike ride, 5 is reserved for the all-day and sometimes all-night rides I occasionally do.

Perhaps this isn't enough data on what, for me, may be an important question. Questions I'd like to answer might include. - Is morning exercise better or worse for sleep than evening exercise? - Is moderate exercise better for sleep than either extreme? - Does taking ZMA (or something else) mitigate the apparently negative effects of exercise on sleep?

Finally, instead of simply "Hours that night" should I be measuring the sleep I got as a fraction of the "Max possible" sleep? That might account for strange circumstances where I was still cycling at 1am and inevitably scored a 5 for "Exercise".

Conclusions

I shouldn't be drawing any firm conclusions yet, I think. 86 days is not that much data and there are many confounding factors that could be influencing things. I have a lot of thinking, learning and tweaking to do. I plan to keep recording the data, expand my exercise data to include AM/PM and separate short intense efforts from longer endurance ones.

Volunteering at Thirsk for LEL

2017-08-04T06:33:00+01:00

I recently volunteered for a few days at the Thirsk Control for London Edinburgh London. I put up banners, sorted out chargers for riders GPSs and phones, found beds for people, served food, fixed bikes and marshalled people into the control. It was tiring, but with a great bunch of people to work with it was also good fun.

My photos from this can be seen on Google Photos.

Trouble sleeping

2017-07-21T07:33:00+01:00

For a couple of years I've had some trouble sleeping. I'm not sure how much of this is due simply to age or the disruption of having a small child. However, lately I find that even when my daughter sleeps soundly, I often find myself waking too early.

I've taken the usual medical advice and found little improvement. GPs seem unwilling to investigate after they've done the standard checks and decided there's nothing seriously wrong with me. Frustrated, I decided to do some work on it myself. Part of my day job is data analysis and I figured that if I can record the right data I might be able to write some code to work out what is causing me to lose sleep. Or, as Mark Watney might say,

I'm gonna have to data science the shit outta this!

Sleep data Google docs spreadsheet

I started a couple of months ago, simply with a spreadsheet recording rather subjectively, thirteen different aspects of my day which I thought might influence my sleep. Things I thought might make a difference to my sleep but are hard to pin down without recording data due to the many confounding factors.

Things like exercise, evening meal size, evening screen time, daylight hours, worry etc. Where no simple measurement scale exists, I estimate a number from one to five. So my ten minute cycle to the station and back counts as 2/5 for exercise. Only a 100km+ ride gets a 5/5. As I said, it's a bit subjective, but hopefully enough to be useful. There's no way I'm going to carry a light meter round with me or start weighing my meals. As it is, recording the data takes barely two minutes a day. The following morning I record roughly how much sleep I think I got, in hours. I have set the spreadsheet to calculate the average over the last five days.

What might be a bit more accurate is a gadget I've acquired recently, an EMFit QS. This intends to measure both my sleep and heart rate throughout the night, producing all kinds of numbers describing how well I've slept and recovered from exercise. I'm not sure I've fully understood how to use it or whether I've got it set up right yet, but I'm adding some of the numbers to my spreadsheet in the hope it will give me some clues.

I haven't yet decided on what techniques I'll use to analyse this data and spot patterns, but I intend to start with a straightforward correlation matrix before moving on to something more sophisticated that can look at results from previous days in case for example, the exercise or food I ate two days ago could influence my sleep tonight.

I'll share any code I write on my github account and explain what I've tried here.

Knock Ventoux 2017

2017-06-11T19:51:00+01:00

Few bike routes truly deserve the overused term "epic", but I think Andy Corless's Knock Ventoux 300km audax is a contender.

I rode this in June 2017 and here are my photos are on Google Photos.

Tweaking the bike for Everesting

2017-06-02T04:00:00+01:00

I'm planning my second Everesting, so thought that as well as climbing lots of hills to prepare my legs, I should do something to prepare my bike. I have one proper road bike which I use for club runs and audaxing. Audax is bikes are partly about comfort as over that kind of distance discomfort eventually becomes pain, which slows you down a lot. Anyway, it is supposed to be enjoyable, mostly. Maybe some type-2 fun, but hopefully not type-3.

I've pretty much decided on The Burway for my next Everesting, even though I won't be the first.

Mods for Everesting

I'm conscious that with Everesting there's a lot more climbing than even the hilliest audax. The Cambrian 200 is one of the hilliest and even that has under 4000m of climbing. Everesting means 8848m in as little as 180km. When climbing, weight makes a huge difference, so some of my modifications are to reduce weight. I've removed the mudguards, the bell and the pedal reflectors and swapped my dynamo hub wheel for a standard one. The weather looks good and I hope not to be riding too much into the dark, so hopefully this will be OK. I've also swapped out my Brooks leather saddle for a simpler and lighter Charge Spoon. If this isn't quite as comfortable I'm hoping it won't matter as I tend to stand up for the descents and maybe parts of the climbs.

I've switched to some 25mm Continental GP4000 tires I have but rarely use. These are fractionally lighter and also roll a bit faster, which is a bigger proportion of energy usage uphill when aerodynamics are negligible.

I haven't spent a huge amount of money to do this, just bought a couple of cheaper bits. No doubt you could save a bit more weight by spending more. The titanium frame is light, but not as light as some carbon ones. Still, I've got the weight down to 8.6kg.

The other significant change I made was in gear ratios. The Burway has a 20-25% section which I can easily get up with 34x29 when I'm fresh. However recent training rides on a 18% climb make me think that will become very hard after a few repetitions. I'd like to have the option of standing or sitting to climb, even when my legs are tired. So I had a look at Spa Cycles and found a cheap triple chainring that would do the job. the smallest ring is 22 teeth, which gives a lowest gain ratio of 0.69 (or 18.1 inches), compared to the 1.07 (or 28 inches) I had previously. At 90 RPM that's 7.8kph, probably a realistic speed for the steepest part of the climb, though I expect my cadence will drop further when tired.

Very low gears with a 22-tooth chainring

I only have a shifter for a double chainring and didn't want the hassle/expense of buying and setting up a full triple at the moment. So I thought I might as well remove the two larger rings and for that matter the front dérailleur. A little extra weight saved.

I can still shift between 32 and 11 tooth cogs on the back, but this means I can't pedal fast enough much beyond 25kph, so I may be a bit slower on the flatter bits of the descent. I'm not too worried about this as I think the climbs are more important to the overall time. Ideally my front ring would be about 28 teeth, but I don't have one of those without spending more money or pulling apart my hybrid.

Maintenance

I've also replaced the chain as it was getting worn and set the length of the new one for the small chainring. I guess when I switch back to my double I'll need a new, longer one.

Broken aluminium nipple

Horrible aluminium nipple with damaged head.

I've also noticed recently that the fairly cheap wheels I bought about a year ago have had several nipple breakages, two when the wheel was just sitting in the garage. It looks like the nipples are made of aluminium rather than brass. Brass ones are a bit heavier (1g vs 0.4g by my measuring), but also more reliable. I don't enjoy the prospect of nipples breaking while out on even a short ride, so I've laboriously replaced them all.

Hopefully all this will help me complete the Burway Everesting tomorrow!

EDIT: I made it!

Preparation for Everesting

2017-05-31T12:37:00+01:00

A couple of years ago I everested Bowden hill in Wiltshire and found it a good challenge. I was the first person daft enough to do it. Since then I've been thinking about another hill to Everest.

For a long time I had my eye on Bwlch-y-groes aka Hellfire pass in North Wales, but last year Ian Barrington did it before me. More recently I've been thinking seriously about The Burway in Shropshire, but a couple of weeks ago Chris Winn did that one. Huge kudos to both these guys for amazing efforts on these famous climbs. However, I was a bit annoyed that I couldn't be the first up either of these, which is what the Everesting.cc hall of fame focuses on.

Why?

I started wondering about whether I really needed to be the first to Everest a particular hill and for that matter why I do it at all - something which I feel I often have to explain to puzzled friends and family. Last time I was doing it for charity, but this time I'd rather do it for me. Partly because I don't like asking people for money.

One reason I do these kind of challenging rides is that it adds a definite goal to aim for. Whether I'm training or modifying my bike or working out the route and logistics, it's all more enjoyable with an aim in mind. If you don't have a goal you can't fail, but success is also rather meaningless. There's no sense of anticipation or achievement. Some cyclists use racing or aiming for KOMs on Strava segments as goals, but I've never been much of a racer. I've assumed that, having only started cycling seriously in my thirties I was a bit old to be really fast over a short distance. But I feel I might be better suited to these longer and quite frankly, weirder challenges. If I really feel the need to get the "first ascent" on the hall of fame, am I doing it for bragging rights? A lot of people I know find my challenges more eccentric than impressive, so perhaps I am doing it for my own satisfaction. I've said before that everyone's challenges are individual and in some ways hard to compare. I've judged that Everesting will be a challenge for me. Despite having done something similar before, I'm not sure I'll be able to complete it with my current level of fitness, a different hill, different conditions, etc. That's part of what makes it interesting.

So I'm still undecided about redoing a famous climb or trying to be first on a new one. Either way, I'll need to prepare my bike.

Let me help you commute by bicycle

2017-05-29T08:00:00+01:00

I regularly use my bike to get to work. Usually only for the short journey across town where I leave it at the station and take the train the rest of the way. Once every week or two I ride the full 25 miles to Bristol. It's a nice way to start the day, saves the train fare and on at least one occasion has been quicker than waiting for severely delayed trains.

Hybrid bike set up for winter riding

However, I can remember a time when this kind of distance and the logistics of riding in to work seemed intimidating. How long would it take? Where could I secure my bike? Will I need lights? How do I carry my laptop and work clothes? Can I shower at work? What if I get a puncture?

I've now resolved these questions and my 18-year old hybrid is now my go-to form of transport for short journeys and sometimes longer ones.

Have you thought about making some or all of your journey to work by bike and never quite got around to it?

Cycling UK's Bike Week event is coming up (10th to 18th June) and in the spirit of encouraging more people to cycle, I'd like to offer to help those friends and colleagues who've never commuted by bike to give it a go.

I can give some advice on the practicalities, safety, route planning and, if you need a bit of extra motivation and you live or work nearby, I may even get up early to escort you to and from work the first time. Just ask and I'll see if I can help. My guess is that when you give it a go, it won't be as difficult as you think.

Don't have a suitable bike? How about joining me in the tandem sometime?

If you're already comfortable commuting by bike, then have a think about how you could encourage others to do so.

What is the point of code reviews?

2017-04-20T06:08:00+01:00

In most of the jobs I've had peer code review was an essential and regular part of the software development process. My experience is that it improves code quality and is well worth the effort. I'd also say that at least half of what I learnt in that time was through code review. Either someone would suggest improvements to my code, or I'd discover new ways of doing things from reviewing other people's work. It's a great way to share knowledge. This is not only true in specialist domains where the answers are not always easily found by searching the web, but any time someone is not aware of a better way of doing things. You won't search for something if you don't know it exists. That's my opinion, but there is also plenty of evidence that code review improves code quality, helps find bugs early and ultimately saves money. The numbers vary between studies, but finding bugs early is not just cheaper, it's significantly cheaper.

What about testing?

No doubt some people will say that the purpose of unit testing is to find bugs early or, in the case of TDD, prevent them ever being created. So why do we need code review as well?

I agree that unit testing is powerful, indeed I've used TDD thoroughly to tame some seemingly intractable problems, but I still highly value code review. I think testing and code review achieve different things. Both are important.

Unit tests are great for quickly checking that everything that worked previously still works after a recent change. They provide confidence to refactor or experiment with code in the knowledge that the essential functionality can be quickly checked and rechecked. Achieving this via a code review would be slow, boring and error-prone.

Code reviews on the other hand can ask bigger questions, like:-

Is the code understandable?
Are the unit tests testing the right requirements?
Is there a more efficient way to do this?
Does it increase unplanned technical debt?

In fact, any check that can't be automated. Coding style, static analysis, spell checking etc can all be automatic and the most a human reviewer should do is check the results.

Code review suggestions

Others have already written good things about how to conduct code reviews without annoying people or what tools you should use, so I won't repeat that. Here are my observations and suggestions about how to get the most out of code review:-

The most important thing for a code review to check is whether the code is functionally correct. Does it do exactly what it says on the tin? Are the code and tests fully implementing the requirements of the story/ticket? Or has the developer misunderstood what's needed in some way? If so then they've probably written the unit tests with the same misunderstanding, so they all pass fine. Yes, this is a hard thing to check - it takes some time to fully understand, but it is important. Get this wrong and nothing else matters.
Code review is a great way to share knowledge. Again, this does mean you have to take the time to properly understand the change, but it develops the team and mitigates risk.
There should be no reviewer hierarchy. Different perspectives are useful. More than once a more "junior" developer has reviewed my code and asked a "naïve" question only for me to scratch my head and say, "You're right, I've done that totally wrong". Even when it doesn't happen quite like that, reviews tend to stimulate questions and the transfer of ideas.
That said, it can be worth making sure the local domain expert is one of the reviewers of any important change, but they don't have to be the only reviewer.
Applying more engineer hours to the review does find more bugs, but each additional hour will be slightly less valuable on average than the last, so there's a balance to be struck.
Don't get bogged down in matters of opinion. When it comes to how to make code understandable and maintainable, there's a big slice of judgement involved. "I wouldn't do it that way" is not sufficient justification for raising a comment. There's a danger of getting into "tomayto/tomahto" arguments. Be open-minded, take a step back and think about how important your point is.
Following on from the last point, it's OK to have no comments. It might seem like you haven't done your job as a reviewer, but it's better than nitpicking for the sake of feeling productive.
If possible, do not manually check anything that can be automated. Style guidelines should be agreed across the project and checked quickly and automatically. Reviewers are human beings; they're above that stuff and anyway they're not very good at it.
Pair programming can function as a kind of instant review, but there are also risks. The reviewer can be too "close" to the code to be impartial or may make the same false assumptions about the requirements. A slower or more timid engineer might not want to question the other's work without the time to think it through properly. So, while pairing can find bugs very early, I don't think it should be the only kind of review a change receives.

Why you may not want to hire passionate people

2017-04-20T06:08:00+01:00

In my industry, "Passionate" is one of the most overused words in job adverts. Recruitment blogs are overflowing with advice on how to find these precious employees. It seems every company wants to hire people who are not just enthusiastic, but passionate about their work. The assumption is that people who describe themselves this way will produce better quality work and go the extra mile to get things done. A person's passion can often be infectious, boosting morale for the team. In my experience these differences in attitude are real and I can see why they're attractive to an employer, but they're not the whole story.

There's already some debate about whether it's reasonable or healthy to expect passion from employees or whether it is simply a way to demand more work for less remuneration. Maybe "we're looking for passionate people" is code for "unpaid overtime is expected". Could the idea of passion for a job be counter to achieving a healthy work-life-balance? I'm sure most modern companies would say that people can and should be passionate about their work and have a fulfilling home life. Hence well worn phrases like "work hard, play hard".

Let's assume employees can be "harmoniously passionate", have a healthy lifestyle and devote a good portion of their time to friends and family. Would you necessarily want to employ them?

Passionate employees care more about what they do. They care about how it's done. They may even care about the overall mission of the company. Often companies encourage people to get involved and to care deeply about these things. Not everyone takes this to heart, of course. For some this kind of talk is like water off a duck's back. They roll their eyes as the CEO stands in front of PowerPoint slides depicting the moon landing or how they're going to use quantum computing to cure cancer.

But some people do feel passionate about their company's mission or technical vision. They will understandably have stronger feelings about how things are done or whether they are done at all. It's unlikely that they'll always agree with leadership on the direction the company takes or decisions that are made in their behalf. Sometimes the inspiring promises that the company makes don't pan out.

Sorry, but the quantum computing solution turned out to be too tricky, so we'll be outsourcing the processing.

Any employee who is professional and responsible would say, "we're doing this wrong, this is what we should do instead". If management decide to ignore their advice many would shrug their shoulders and get on with the next task. A truly passionate employee will campaign for change, research the best options in their own time and make the case for improvement as forcefully as they can.

Actually we're not directly curing cancer, but gathering statistics on cancer drugs sales over the last ten years.

Whether it is the leaders or the employee who has the better argument, the difference of opinion can become a serious impediment to progress and morale. The employee may become disgruntled and start looking for a new job or, if they're making a lot of noise about it, be forced leave the company.

This is unlikely to happen with less passionate employees. Those who work to live rather than living to work. Plenty of my valued colleagues over the years are not at all passionate about their work and I don't think they should feel guilty about that. I would say they are professional. They want to do a good job, because doing a good job is more satisfying than doing a shoddy one. Being liked by your colleagues means being helpful and responsible. However, they're not so wedded to the company mission that they'll feel any great loss if the decisions of senior management put the project or even the company at risk.

The professional rather than passionate person may move on, of course, but it will likely be for more practical reasons - salary, benefits, location or career development. Those things are probably easier to measure and manage than factors like how realistic the company mission is or how inspiring the technical challenges.

"I know you guys are master carpenters hired to carve unique furniture, but we urgently need you to assemble flat-pack wardrobes."

To be clear, I'm happy to work with anyone who is responsible and ethical at work, whether they're passionate or not. I think it takes all sorts to make a good team. What I dislike is the obsession with passion at the expense of the merely professional.

Passion may be a great motivator, but it is hard to manage properly and can become a destructive force when it is not.

A different kind of challenging

2017-02-03T17:25:00+00:00

An audax has been described as a journey with an uncertain outcome. If everything goes well, the time limits are usually generous enough for people of a widely varying speeds to finish. However, they take place in the real world where expected things can and do go wrong and it pays to be well prepared. To my mind, this uncertainty adds to the sense of adventure and challenge, even if it is sometimes frustrating.

Having been ill with a persistent fever and cough for most of January, I was recovering physically and desperate to get out in the fresh air. So I booked 31st Jan off work and planned my first ride of the year - a 50km DIY audax with plenty of hills, plus a little bit to and from the start. If I took it slowly it should be a gentle start to the year which my unfit body and still-sensitive lungs could manage.

It was a damp and misty day, with the threat of rain. I don't have the luxury of much flexibility in my spare time, so I wasn't going to let that put me off. I've got some good waterproofs - trousers, jacket and socks, so I put it all on and set off.

I whizzed downhill through "the prettiest village in England", dodging a few tourists who were out early. After several small ups and downs, I reached the highest point of the ride near Colerne where the mist and drizzle made visibility very poor. A bit of a shame as there are often good views from up here. Nevertheless I was happy to be out in the great outdoors feeling freedom and adventure. I felt like a caged bird set free. Albeit a slightly wheezy bird. But my lungs were 95% normal and my legs still seemed to know what to do. I was happy to amble along without expecting to break any personal records.

Thankfully the journey through Bath was easy and unhindered by traffic. Once out in the countryside again I enjoyed some unfamiliar scenery. The last time I rode down there was two years ago, so it made a nice change. Things got seriously steep riding in and out of Wellow, but at times the mist cleared and there were glimpses of the views I'd hoped for. I returned to Bath via the two tunnels cycle path which I always enjoy. It's a gentle gradient and a good surface, so progress is easy in either direction. Mid-morning on a weekday, there were few pedestrians about, but I was surprised by one in dark clothing - shame my front light wasn't working.

Once out of Bath I had a choice of two climbs, the narrow, quiet, meandering Steway lane, or the busier Bannerdown hill. The latter is the obvious choice downhill as it's possible to safely pick up speed, but on the return journey Steway lane usually makes for a more relaxing route, especially at busy times. However, the surface often gets a bit "agricultural". In the light of the recent damp weather, I chose the simpler and cleaner Bannderdown hill, taking the long climb into the mist steadily.

As I approached the top I noticed a lot of noise from the rear tyre. A puncture. Disappointing as this one had gone on my last ride too. Never mind, I found a gap by a farm gate and looked for the hole. Normally I take the tyre and tube off and inflate then listen for the escaping air, but in this case the tube wouldn't stay up long enough to do this. I thought this meant it was a pretty big hole, but I couldn't see anything. Maybe the valve had failed. A light misty rain was falling and I was getting impatient. I checked around the inside of the tyre for anything sharp, but found nothing. Yes, must be the valve gone. I put my spare inner tube into the tyre and set off to finish the climb. I'd barely got twenty metres when the back went down again. I yelled some bad words into the mist and walked it up to the large lay by at the top of the hill.

In as few mins I had a glue patch applied and was putting air back into the tyre. The problem was that it wasn't staying in the tyre. Sighing, I got the levers back out and removed the tyre again. I only had one spare tube, so I had to fix this somehow. Part of the patch had stuck, but air was escaping from the other side. More glue on that side and try again. Nope, it still won't hold air. Maybe a whole new patch? How about the Park Tools self-adhesive patches? A bit better, but still not good enough. Maybe the ubiquitous grime and moisture was the problem? I tried wiping the tyre down with some spare clothing from my bag, one of the few really dry things I had. This seemed to help a bit, but still didn't quite do the job. Each time it failed I had a small outburst of frustration, before regaining my calm and trying again. I've fixed loads of punctures, why can't I do this one? After an hour and a half I was considering whether to walk home. It would take three hours and I wouldn't be able to validate my DIY audax, but at least I'd be back for dinner.

Just then another cyclist arrived. Chelsea was on her first tour from Bath to Oxford and she was having issues with her gears shifting into the spokes. This can be seriously bad news and even wreak a wheel. I did my best to help her by adjusting the limit screws, but I'm not sure it was totally fixed. It had been a lonely ride up to this point, so a bit of chat was welcome. She also kindly gave me an inner tube - I got the impression it was her only one. I felt a bit bad taking it. Fingers crossed her Gatorskin tyres are tough enough for her journey.

We said goodbye and, unsure of how much time I had to complete my ride, I sped off at a faster-than-usual pace. Thankfully the worst of the hills were behind me and there was a slight tailwind, so I made good progress. Later I found I'd finished with about five minutes to spare!

The ride was certainly difficult, but not for the fitness-related reasons I had expected. Often long-distance riding provides more mental than physical challenges, but I'd rather not repeat this experience. Inspecting my rear tyre on my return, I found it full of tiny cuts and with little tread left. My Strava history suggests it might've done around 9000km - far more than I'd usually expect, so I'll replace it before the next ride. I also plan to carry two spare tubes with me in future, partly for those times when I mess up but also so I can donate one to someone else without leaving myself at risk of getting stuck.

Hopefully Chelsea reached her destination safely and without needing her spare inner tube.

Why I want to encrypt everything

2016-10-11T21:50:00+01:00

When I suggest to people that we should communicate using encryption, I get the impression they don't take me seriously.

Am I paranoid? Do I think I'm interesting enough to be the subject of surveillance? Maybe I want to play at being a spy? OK, maybe the last one is partly true, but seriously, I think there are good reasons to encrypt all information by default.

To be completely clear, when I suggest we use encrypted communication:- - I don't have any classified information to share - I'm not buying or selling anything illegal - I am not planning to have an affair with anyone - I've got no intention of overthrowing any governments or hacking anything

I don't think I have anything to hide. However, I don't want to have to think, every time I send a message to a friend, family member or whoever, about who might see it, now or in the future and what the consequences might be. Maybe one day one of us will be famous and our embarrassing utterances may be of interest to the masses.

I'd like every message between us to be... between us. It's easy to unthinkingly assume that the messages we send are only read by the intended person or persons. I want that assumption to be reasonable.

Email is not usually encrypted and is easy to fake

For a popular example, email has often been described as "about as secure as a postcard". In practice I think it's a bit worse than that. Firstly, because it's easy to intercept and read millions of emails automatically. Secondly, with a postcard you can probably recognise the sender's handwriting which would take some effort to fake. Email senders can easily be spoofed. By default there's no way to verify that the address in the "From:" field is the person who sent the email.

It shouldn't take too much imagination to see how the insecurity of email could lead to problems. It's already been exploited via a simple scam in the UK.

To summarise the link above... A couple had some building work done and had agreed with the builder to pay via bank transfer as many people, myself included, do regularly. They received an invoice from the builder via email which included his bank details. They duly transferred £25k to the account, but the builder never received it. The email appeared to come from the builder's email address, but was in fact from a scammer who had sent their own bank account details in place of the originals.

This would not have been possible if the email sender's identity could be verified and the email encrypted. Another solution would be to share the bank account details in person or, if you recognise the person's voice and know their number already, over the phone. A phone number in an email could also be faked.

There are ways to improve on email security, in fact it's fairly simple if both parties can use the same service. Other solutions get a bit more complicated.

Encryption is getting easier

The good news is that it's getting easier to encrypt everything by default. Google are now encouraging all websites to be delivered via HTTPS (the S standing for SSL or Secure), making websites harder to fake and adding to the reliability of online data.

Many email services now offer some level of encryption and verification within their service. So a GMail user writing to another GMail user can expect their communications to be encrypted. Facebook messages are encrypted, as are WhatsApp. In some cases it may be possible for employees of those organisations to access clients' communications, or to change the application for a user so that their data can be read.

For a higher standard of encryption people look to "zero-knowledge" solutions in which the service providers don't have the ability to read user data or access their private encryption keys, even if they wanted to or were forced by law, blackmail, bribery, etc. Zero-knowledge email systems include Tutanota and ProtonMail. They're not perfect. I won't go into all the pros and cons here except to say that at the time of writing neither are securely interoperable with other email services, but can still be used for unencrypted plaintext emails to/from any address.

Of course all this relies on you having a good password.

For text messaging the most respected zero-knowledge solution is Signal, which is available for free on iOS and Android. WhatsApp also offers "end-to-end" encryption, but unlike Signal the code is not open source, so not subject to public scrutiny. Researchers have already shown that WhatsApp can allow Facebook and possibly others to read private messages. Furthermore there's some controversy over the sharing of user data with Facebook.

Secure messaging is not paranoia, it's good practice.

The Rough Diamond Rough Statistics

2016-08-13T10:17:00+01:00

Mark Rigby's Rough Diamond is described as a "fast 300" on good roads and, being in July, the weather is usually better than 300s in the Spring. Ideal for those attempting this distance for the first time, like my wife Erica, so we did the ride together on the tandem. It's a great ride and I'd recommend it to anyone doing this distance for the first time.

Many cyclists, myself included, track their rides on GPS analysis sites such as Strava. After the ride you can pore over the statistics to find out how your speed varied and, with additional sensors, where your power output dipped, your heart rate shot up or your cadence was sub-optimal. Besides a thorough approach to training, I think there's a lot to be said for using these sites for nostalgic reliving or sharing rides, adding photos or planning future routes. It can be motivational too. Trying to beat my personal records on Strava was what got me back into cycling properly some five years ago. But, liking gadgets as I do, I know I'm at risk of being sucked into obsessing over performance data. Erica teases me about uploading my rides before I've even had a shower. So whenever I'm on an audax I defiantly tell myself I'm "out for a good time, not a fast time", taking in the scenery, chatting to people I meet on the way and enjoying the adventure.

Those at the very front or back of the field may have more reason to scrutinise their average speeds. Indeed, it's prudent even for those of us normally in the bulgy bit of the bell curve to keep one eye on the clock as I know from my failure to complete PBP last year. But, for many audaxers, the additional data is not of much interest and might even be considered a distraction from the enjoyment of the ride.

I enjoy looking at visual data, like that presented in the book Information Is Beautiful. So I produced a graph tracking what I thought was interesting on the ride. The result may not be exactly beautiful, but I thought it was interesting. Everyone will have their own opinions about what makes a great ride; the variables I've described with the graph are the ones which Erica and I thought were important. They're also not very precise because we tried to reconstruct them later. I guess we could've carefully noted each one every fifteen minutes to get accurate results, but we didn't want any distractions from navigation, chatting and looking at the view. Besides, that would probably be more annoying than constantly checking our cadence. Maybe one day someone will make sensors to measure some of this directly!

Thin green: Elevation profile. The only variable I've taken from the GPS track. It helps to work out where we are on the route and you can see how the climbs and descents affected the other lines. It includes the short ride to and from our accommodation.

Light blue: Social interaction. You're never alone on a tandem, but we still enjoyed chatting with other riders, or just cruising along with them on the flatter sections.

Dark blue: Clothing dampness. This was affected not only by the morning's rain but by riding up hill a bit too quickly without shedding layers.

Purple: Hunger. A rough average between myself and Erica as we seemed to get hungry at about the same time on this ride.

Brown: Scenery. Plenty of interest along the route, but some definite highlights including lakes, rivers and architecture.

Red: Morale/confidence. Again an average between the two of us. This was greatly affected by everything else we tracked and some particular events which I've marked on the graph.

Rear bike lights round-up comparison review thing

2016-07-13T16:27:00+01:00

As LEDs have become cheaper and brighter in recent years, there's been a proliferation of bike lights, which makes choosing one difficult. Many of them can be had for under ten pounds but there are also plenty of premium super-bright rear lights available. For those with a particular obsession with gadgets, Garmin have created a light which uses radar to detect approaching cars, adjusting the light and warning you via your GPS display. Sounds fun, but I find it hard to believe it would make me any safer than listening for approaching cars. For deaf cyclists, I imagine it would be very helpful.

My search for the perfect rear light

I try to keep it simple. I need a reliable light that will keep me safe on long rides including audaxes in all kinds of conditions. There are other, more comprehensive bike light comparisons out there. This article is limited to the few (OK, quite a few now I list them) that I've tried. So far I've not quite found the perfect light for every situation, but I've tried some really good ones, each with different drawbacks.

Criteria

My preferences may differ from others, but here's an explanation of what I'm looking for and my thinking behind it. I tend to carry a rear light on every ride in case I'm delayed by a mechanical problem or just want extra daylight visibility. I do use a dynamo front light for longer rides, but I've not got around to rigging a rear light up to this as well. Even if I did, I'm sure if want a spare in case it failed for any reason.

AA/AAA batteries: I always use lights with rechargeable AA or AAA batteries. The main reason is that, in an emergency, spares can be bought anywhere. Pretty much any corner shop or late-night service station will stock AA and AAA, albeit the non-rechargeable kind. I prefer rechargeable batteries (usually Eneloops) as I feel like less of an environmental criminal. Obviously, if I get caught out, I'm not going to put myself at risk and ride illegally, I'll hold my nose and buy whatever they have. Plenty of USB-rechargeable lithium-ion lights claim to last 20+ hours, which should be enough, but lithium ion batteries tend to wear out after a few years and usually can't be replaced. If I forget to charge it or find the cell is losing its mojo, I don't want to discover that on a Welsh mountain pass at 11pm. Sure, I could take a USB charger with me, but it's quicker and easier to simply swap the batteries. There are more AAA rear lights available than AA, although I prefer AA (also known ad LR6 or Mignon). Most of the electronics I have on the bike, including my GPS, takes AA batteries and they'll typically last well, though this depends on the light. As they're all the same type, I can carry fewer spares.

Night time visibility: In the UK it's a legal requirement to have lights and reflectors after dark. A rear light for riding in the dark doesn't need to be especially bright, but the illuminated area (the height and width of the light itself) should be large or there should be several lights separated by some distance. This can help drivers to judge your position and speed. This is harder with flashing lights, but they are more easily noticed, especially in busy urban environments. So a combination of different lights seems the best approach to me. Also, bright flashing lights can be dazzling to other road users, especially when riding in groups, so any way to reduce this is a good thing.

Daylight visibility: Being seen by road traffic during the day is just as important and there's some research which shows a reduction in accident rates for bicycles with daytime running lights. These lights are about getting you noticed. Once you've been noticed, it should be easy for driver with the benefit of daylight to judge your location and speed. With all that daylight to compete with, a daytime running light should be small and bright, possibly flashing. Many lights include a lens which focuses the light into a narrower cone within which it can be seen over a long distance. However, if used at night, unless these are adjusted carefully, which isn't always possible, they can be unpleasant for following cyclists and even drivers. Drivers who are part-blinded or infuriated are not much better than those who haven't seen you.

Robustness: Aside from the obvious frustration of having a light fail, longer rides mean a potentially long stretch in the dark without a light if one should fail. The vast majority of rear lights with replaceable batteries have a battery compartment which is kept shut with stiff plastic clips. These are often opened by wedging a coin into a slot and twisting. This bends the clips a little, popping the case open. There are several problems with this. First is that the clips often break, especially in cold weather which can make the plastic brittle.

Secondly, sometimes they're too loose and the light falls apart when you ride over a bump, dropping half of it in the road, often unnoticed. There are various bodges to work around this, including elastic bands and tape, but they make changing the batteries more of a faff. The better solution is a battery compartment that is closed with a screw. The other aspect of robustness is waterproofing. When it's raining you need the light more than ever and I've heard plenty of reports of leaky lights. Luckily, all the ones I've tried have kept the water out so far but there are numerous reports of otherwise good lights malfunctioning in rain. -

Lights I've tried

Smart Superflash 0.5W, 2xAAA

http://www.chainreactioncycles.com/smart-superflash-1-2-watt-rear-light/rp-prod56546 A basic and popular light. Two modes, flashing and constant. Above average battery life. Bright enough main LED for daylight use. Can be dazzling. Plastic clips can come undone when bumped. Others have reported water ingress issues.

Cheapness: 8/10
Robustness: 6/10
Visibility by day: 8/10
Visibility by night: 7/10
Mounting options: 6/10
Battery life: 10/10

Smart Rl321r - 2 Red 0.5w Superflash, 2xAAA

http://www.halfords.com/cycling/bike-lights/bike-lights/smart-rl321r-0-5w-0-5w-2-red-0-5w-superflash-leds Features two very bright LEDs, lots of modes, including a slowly pulsing one which I guess may be less annoying to other riders. Plastic clips broke when opened at about 2 deg C. In the photos of recent models the clips look a bit sturdier, so maybe that has been improved (though it now has no pulsing mode!). Gives a good daylight flash for about ten hours on rechargeables.

Cheapness: 5/10
Robustness: 6/10
Visibility by day: 9/10
Visibility by night: 7/10
Mounting options: 6/10
Battery life: 7/10

Blackburn Mars 1.1, 2xAAA

http://www.blackburndesign.com/en_eu/mars-1-1-rear.html Not especially bright, so perhaps not the best daytime choice, but the 3 LEDs offer good all round visibility for longer than average. Haven't had any trouble with the plastic clips and basic rubber washer, but not really tested this in extreme conditions. Cost well under ten pounds.

Cheapness: 9/10
Robustness: 6/10
Visibility by day: 3/10
Visibility by night: 6/10
Mounting options: 6/10
Battery life: 10/10

Metro flash Dangerzone, 2xAAA

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/NEW-MetroFlash-Danger-Zone-Tail-Light-/171708741341 Probably the brightest light that runs on 2 AAAs at the time of writing. Really unpleasant to be behind. Despite the claims on the box (usually for alkaline batteries), I found it barely lasted two hours with rechargeables on constant mode. Could be good for a busy commute or in rain or fog. The plastic clips holding the battery compartment shut broke so I used an elastic band to hold it together. Once I forgot to do this and it split apart when I went over a bump losing the light and batteries. The button is easy to press when riding, but can also be accidentally turned on when in a bag or pocket.

Cheapness: 5/10
Robustness: 4/10
Visibility by day: 10/10
Visibility by night: 8/10
Mounting options: 6/10
Battery life: 2/10

Fibre flare shorty, 2xAAA

http://fibreflare.com/products/fibre-flare-shorty-red A rather different design featuring a bar of light with a battery compartment at each end. Can be bent slightly and mounted in all sorts of creative ways and helmets, bags, seat stays, etc. Comes in a few different colours. Not especially bright, but covers more area than most, so may make it easier to locate you at night. However it's almost useless in daylight. Rechargeable batteries last at least ten hours, more when flashing. Had slight water ingress problems until I smeared some silicon grease under the rubber caps. UPDATE: Bending by an enthusiastic child has stopped the light working. I might be able to fix it.

Cheapness: 4/10
Robustness: 5/10
Visibility by day: 2/10
Visibility by night: 8/10
Mounting options: 10/10
Battery life: 6/10

Cateye Omni 5, 2xAAA

http://www.cateye.com/intl/products/detail/TL-LD155-R/ A good all-rounder for about ten pounds. Five moderately bright LEDs and a clear/red plastic body mean it can be seen from every angle. 3 modes, one of which is a bit headache-inducing. Daylight visibility is ok and it runs bright enough on rechargeables when set to flash. The body is rather brittle and can easily fall apart going over a bump, ditching the batteries and half the light on the ground.

Cheapness: 8/10
Robustness: 6/10
Visibility by day: 5/10
Visibility by night: 8/10
Mounting options: 6/10
Battery life: 7/10

B&M Linetec senso, 1xAA

http://en.bumm.de/produkte/akku-ruecklicht/toplight-line.html Probably my favourite rear light. It's the battery version of a popular dynamo light and can be set to always on or "senso" mode which turns on in the dark if the bike is moving. There's no flashing mode. When you stop it waits a few minutes before turning off. This prompts helpful people to tell you that you've left your light on whenever you park at night, but otherwise it's a nice feature that means less faff. It's a large "spatial" light with a wide reflector which glows at night, all of which should make it easy for drivers to work out how far away you are. It also means you're legally covered from a rear reflector point of view. The light shines evenly across a wide area so is visible from nearly 180 degrees without being dazzling. Daylight visibility is below average, but probably still worth using if you don't have another light. Amazingly a single rechargeable AA battery will keep it going for over 30 hours; I tested it at home. The main downside is mounting. It has two bolts spaced 80mm or 50mm apart and will fit nicely on most rear racks. If you don't have a rack there are are various ways to bodge it but, depending on your bike and luggage this may be a showstopper for some. It's a sensible, grown up light for tourers, commuters or anyone who knows they'll be riding a fair distance in the dark. Coupled with a small flashing light it is probably the best option. Cheapness: 5/10
Robustness: 9/10
Visibility by day: 5/10
Visibility by night: 10/10
Mounting options: 4/10
Battery life: 10/10

Blackburn Local 20, 2xAA

http://www.blackburndesign.com/en_eu/local-20-rear-light.html This is a recent purchase that I've only used on a couple of rides so far. However it seems sturdy in spite of the common plastic clips closure. It's a bit bigger and heavier than most rear lights, but can still be mounted on a seatpost or bag. In a home test I got more than 24 hours of constant light out of it before it started to look a bit dim. There are also two flashing modes. Daylight visibility is poor due to the lack of a focusing lens leaving two tiny pin pricks of light that seem to get lost. At night however, the whole thing glows beautifully and is visible from a wide range of angles without being too dazzling. It fills a similar role to the B&M Linetec above, but is more compact. I may keep it handy as a backup light or place to store spare AA batteries in my bag. The RRP is about twenty pounds, but it can be found for less. UPDATE: This light fell apart, presumably when going over a bump, resulting in the light and batteries being lost. I think this was partly due to the angle it was at on a loose bag which might have created a "whiplash" effect adding to the downwards force. On my Carradice saddlebag it has been fine for a year or so. As they're only ten pounds I've bought another.

Cheapness: 7.2/10
Robustness: 7/10
Visibility by day: 4/10
Visibility by night: 9/10
Mounting options: 6/10
Battery life: 10/10

Conclusion

As you can see there are many decent lights out there so it's all a bit different horses for stroking different blokes' cats. Or something.

For any long ride I will have my B&M Linetec with me and I'm considering getting another for my commuting hybrid. I would also usually take the Smart Rl321r hooked onto my Carradice bag for daylight visibility or rain or fog. I also often pack the Mars 1.1 as a spare inside the bag, if only as a place to store spare AAA batteries for the Smart Rl321r. If I was travelling light after dark and only had space for one small light, I'd take the Local 20.

Tandem handlebars from flat to drop

2016-06-21T21:49:00+01:00

In the last couple of years we've started using our tandem for longer rides and are looking at ways to make the bike more comfortable. We did some touring on it years ago, but now we're riding 200k+ audaxes, where comfort is arguably even more important than when touring due to the time limit and limited time off the bike. As the stoker Erica tells me she's very comfortable since we had a bike fit and she switched to a wide bullhorn bar with thick tape. With no need to steer she can easily change position on the bars or even let go or hold the saddle for a change when we're going slowly. The tandem typically gives a very nice ride due to the long wheelbase, steel frame and 35mm tyres.

Flat bar issues

However, on my flat bars I've been stuck with a single hand position for an all day ride, which has caused some aches, particularly at the back of my neck and shoulders. I've never been able to ride no-handed and I don't think it would be at all safe to do so on a tandem, as the stoker can shift their weight unexpectedly.

I don't get this pain on my drop bar road bike even on much longer rides, so I wondered what the difference was. My current theory is the space between my hands. On the road bike this is at most 40cm, but on the tandem it's always 50cm. I think this means my upper back has to work harder to bridge the gap and support my weight when leaning forward on the tandem. The usual advice for this is:-

Handlebars should be shoulder width apart (measured from acromion to acromion across the anterior chest) and comfortable. Handlebars that are too wide may cause excessive trapezius and rhomboid strain leading to muscle spasm and pain.

roadcycling.com on Neck and Back pain

The other possibility is that the tandem simply takes more arm and shoulder strength to manoeuvre, but I think narrower bars with more hand positions are worth a try.

Drop bar conversion

With that in mind I've picked a drop bar that is 42cm wide. This should give me enough leverage for the heavier bike and plenty of narrower hand positions. It has a very shallow drop and short reach as I figured it wouldn't make a huge difference to aerodynamics on a tandem. If I tuck down lower at the front it means I won't be shielding the stoker from the wind quite so well. I imagine there are still gains there, but I assume a 20mm lower front position won't be noticeably faster.

But there's an additional complication to this set up. The tandem has a rohloff speedhub which normally needs a twist shifter. This is tricky to get onto drop bars. There have been quite a few ideas to make the rohloff work with drop bars, some of them rather expensive and fiddly to set up. I've gone for one of the simplest and cheapest options by putting it on an extension to the left-hand end of the drop. The extension is called a hubbub and has an expanding end so you can tighten it up inside the handlebar with an allen key. The shifter then clamps onto this as it would the bar. Having to reach down for this is another reason I wanted a small drop on the bars. I want to make it as easy as possible to change hand positions. I tried out Thorn's Mercury a few years ago which, if I remember correctly, had a split bar with a twist shifter on the tops, near the stem clamp. The problem for me was that I don't spend much time in the tops, preferring the hoods or drops. So reaching up for the shifter took some effort and I was putting a lot of weight on one arm to do it. Even on a short test ride this got annoying; on a longer one I guess it could actually become painful.

Putting it all together

I spent a little under a hundred pounds on new kit, including Cinelli drop bars, [Tektro] RL520 Aero V Brake Levers, the hubbub adapter and SRAM bar tape. Luckily I already had a suitable stem leftover from a previous bike fit tweak to my wife's hybrid. I held these up to the bike before fitting and did some rough calculations which confirmed that the hoods would be no further away from the saddle than on my audax bike. The bars were a little higher with respect to the saddle, but the only downside to this would be a slight aerodynamic loss and I could easily move them down later as there were still two 10mm headset spacers under the stem.

While I was doing the work I realised that the brake cables were getting a bit rusty, which is not surprising after at least twelve years use in all weathers. So I replaced the cables and outers, which was a bit fiddly but, even with the longer frame of the tandem, it cost less than five pounds. After I'd done this the rear brake seemed to have a lot of resistance in it compared to the front one. I can't quite remember whether this was always the case, so I checked to see if anything was sticking.

Each part seemed fairly free and I could still get plenty of force through to the rear brake, so I decided it was good enough to try out there road.

I also added a small mirror to the opposite end of the bars though, being further inboard than the previous one, I'm not sure it will be worth it.

Test run

We took the bike out for a twenty km spin with a couple of steep hills. At slow speeds, especially starting off, I didn't have as much leverage and fine control of the steering with the narrower bars, but once above walking pace they felt natural and I could even climb out of the saddle if I was careful. It was possible to hit my knee on the shifter, but didn't happen often. What was not so good was that the shifter came loose and started rotating in the bar. The rohloff is quite easy to use, but each change does required a bit of force to get it to click. This soon became impossible without putting two hands on the shifter which was totally impractical and unsafe. So we stopped and found a suitable compromise gear to take us home.

Back in the garage I realised that the hubbub adapter wasn't gripping the inside of the handlebar properly. I thought I'd got it as tight as possible with the shorter end of the allen key, the long end being required to reach down inside the adapter to the nut. If I had to epoxy the thing in it rather defeats the point of the hubbub adapter over a lump of wood or pipe. Online advice suggested that it just needed more torque, so I hunted around the garage for something to extend the small allen key lever. A bit of metal pipe would've done, but I was lucky to find an old suspension seat post. Miraculously, this is adjusted with an allen key in the bottom of the same size as the hubbub - 6mm. With a foot-long lever I could apply much more torque and it now shows no signs of moving. We've done a three-hour ride since and I'm confident enough to give it a go on a 220km audax at the weekend, which will be a real test of comfort.

EDIT: After riding a 200 and 300km events (including one 1 in 4 climb) with this set up, I'm mostly pleased with it, but getting out of the saddle on a climb can result in bashing my knee on the shifter unless I'm really careful. A sharp corner of it actually cut my knee on two occasions, so I may think about putting some tape over it or just stay seated.

Miele washing machine repair

2016-05-21T21:33:00+01:00

This is following up on my disappointing experience of trying to get our four and a bit year old Miele W5740 washing machine repaired. When I got back to Miele, they offered to send an engineer for a free inspection and let us know what they could then offer us. Nothing to lose, I thought.

I wasn't sure what they might offer to do and how much they'd charge, but I was weighing possible costs against that of a new machine. I'd previous looked up the cost of the failed part and service, which would be at least £417. Without any further guarantee, that doesn't compare well to a new machine.

For example, John Lewis sell the Indesit XWD71452W which gets good reviews, for £209. Even if it failed just outside the 2 year guarantee, its cost per year would be around £100.

If the Miele W5740 proves uneconomical to repair it will have cost £203.83 per year (£958/4.7). If the £417 repair worked and it lasted a total of 20 years as implied by Miele's website, then the cost per year comes down to £68.75, but all the risk of any further repair or replacement is on me, the customer. Consumer rights law suggests that you should be able to insist a machine lasts for a reasonable length of time, based mostly on the cost of the machine. However, enforcing this might require a trip to the small claims court, which isn't expensive, unless you end up paying the company's legal costs.

We'd already decided that I'd rather spend less than the full £417 repair cost on a new machine with some kind of guarantee, possibly selling the old Miele one for parts on eBay.

As it turned out the Miele engineer took a look and confirmed our suspicions that the main board had gone. He also said he'd phone his boss, saying we'd likely get a better deal than asking customer services. They offered to provide the £300 part which had broken for free and only charge us the £117 call out charge. Not a great deal, given there's no guarantee it will work for any length of time, but less hassle than buying a new machine, so we went for it.

In future I won't be taking much notice of how long a company's marketing material suggests their products will last. Instead I'll be looking at long-term reviews and how long the guarantee is.

Life span of a Miele washing machine

2016-05-08T08:28:00+01:00

I've long been annoyed by throwaway culture and things not being built to last or made easy to maintain. So I've been trying to buy products which buck this trend and last a decent length of time, or are at least economically repairable.

I've been pleasantly surprised in two recent cases. Our Hope Vision One light suffered from water ingress and Hope repaired it free of charge, even though it was bought some 7 years ago for around £70. More recently the 10-year old Rohloff SPEEDHUB on our tandem came apart when the nuts holding the cap on mysteriously undid themselves on a ride. We sent it back to SJS Cycles expecting a bill, but were told that Rohloff had paid for the repair as goodwill. We got it back a couple of days later with a new gasket and thread-locked screws. I recently heard that Brompton did a free repair of an aging frame which had been taken off-road and cracked the rear triangle. Not only did they fix it free of charge, they replaced the worn chain and brakes too. I've experienced similar good service from Carradice. The idea that products should last well or be maintained by the manufacturer is not limited to cycling brands; Patagonia encourage customers to repair their clothing or will even do it for you (that might be US-only).

German appliance manufacturer Miele have been trying to market themselves as a reliable brand, boasting that their washing machines are tested for "20 years equivalent usage". That strongly implies the machine should last better than most. On this basis we bought a Miele W5740 for the princely sum of £958.98 back in 2011. As you can probably guess from the fact I'm writing this, ours didn't last that long. In fact, after 4 years and 8 months of moderate usage - much less than the 5 washes a week they test for - it refused to turn on. On closer inspection by a local repairman, it seems a chip on the main board had exploded, along with an adjacent resistor.

We got in touch with the retailer and Miele, explaining the situation. The Co-Op Electrical said some nice things to give the impression that they cared, which sounded rather insincere when they added.

As the item is out of its guarantee period, at this stage you would have to pay and arrange for an engineer call yourself and upon providing evidence that the appliance is faulty due to an inherent manufacturing defect, then we will gladly reimburse you this loss you have suffered getting an item repaired, upon supply of the invoice. This is in line with the Sales of Goods Act 1979 (amended) because the appliance is more than 6 months old the onus unfortunately falls onto the consumer to prove that the fault is inherent. If the engineer cannot confirm that the appliance was faulty at the time of purchase then we will not be able to cover the cost of the call out and repair. I must advise that for us to be able to reimburse any cost to you there must be proof supplied of an inherent manufacturing fault, if this is not supplied or if a report is supplied that remains ambiguous we will not be in a position to assist you further. The report supplied to us must state: what the fault is, what has caused the fault, what is needed to rectify the fault and how much a repair of the item would be. Failure to supply a report with this information will mean we cannot assist you.

Miele themselves were similarly kind, caring and utterly unhelpful.

I can confirm that the quality of the after sales support offered to our customers is of paramount importance to the Miele organisation. Whilst we make every effort to ensure that all of our components are of the highest quality, we cannot guarantee that breakdowns will not occur in individual instances, as even with careful use and regular operator maintenance, parts can fail or wear out from time to time. However, we are confident that following the repair to your appliance, your machine should give you many years of satisfactory, trouble-free service.

We are constantly reviewing and updating our processes and procedures to offer the best service to our customers and as a result your comments will be used as part of our ongoing service auditing programme.

We wouldn’t be able to do this repair free of charge due to the age of the appliance.

I've replied to them with the following:

Apologies taking so long getting back to you.

I've pasted the text of my receipt from the Co-Op below. Here is my address and the serial number of the machine as requested.

For your reference I've also included a photo of the exploded chip.]
You say "the quality of the after sales support offered to our customers is of paramount importance to the Miele organisation". In the light of my recent experience, I find those nice words rather hollow. Your website boasts that your machines are tested for “20 years equivalent usage”. Failing in less than five years is not something a customer should have to pay for. It seems you're unwilling to stand by your bold claims of quality and reliability.

I'm also not impressed by your confidence that, once repaired the machine "should give you many years of satisfactory, trouble-free service". This presumably does not constitute any kind of guarantee. So if some part of the machine was to fail in the next few years, would I be looking at another sizable bill to repair it?

I'd be interested in what you can offer me in terms of repair, how much it would cost me and how long you'd be willing to guarantee the machine after that.

A new mainboard is about £300 and Miele's callout charge alone is £117. So if it's a quick job, I'm looking at well over £400 to fix a machine which has already proven itself to be unreliable, paid to a company who, it seems, are unwilling to stand by their bold claims of quality and reliability. If it fails again in a year's time I have no confidence that Miele would do the right thing and fix or replace it for free. Miele appliances are usually more expensive than other machines of equivalent function. They certainly feel solid and well-made, but if they fail outside of guarantee it seems you're no better off than with a cheap and cheerful brand.

Companies looking to establish a reputation as honest and reliable should treat repairs as an opportunity to show how much they care about their customers or at least the duty of a responsible manufacturer. Too often, in spite of boilerplate appeasements, repairing faulty products is considered an additional revenue stream.

I'm hopeful that Miele will see the sense in maintaining their "reliable" brand and differentiation from the competition, but time will tell whether they're a Brompton or a Volkswagen.

EDIT: See follow-up: Miele repair.

Script for Garmin eTrex 30 barometer

2016-04-24T08:08:00+01:00

If you use Strava and a Garmin eTrex 30 and care about that the climbing figures you get are accurate, then you may be disappointed that Strava is ignoring the barometric data the eTrex 30 gives you and working it out roughly by itself, presumably through the average elevation of large map tiles or similar.

There is a simple fix for this, as pointed out by tubbycyclist of yacf:-

A generic “with barometer” device is provided to force the system to use the elevation data from TCX and GPX file types. One only needs to add “with barometer” to the end of the creator name.

Easy enough with a text editor, but a bit of a faff to do every time you upload.

So I've created some scripts to make it easier. My idea is that these scripts will be kept in the root directory of the GPS so that they're always accessible at the same relative path to the file(s) they are editing. There are different scripts for different operating systems, so they should work even on unfamiliar computers. So when travelling and using other people's computers, they should still work.

Windows

This Windows Script uses PowerShell 1.0, so should work on Windows XP SP2 or later. I've tested it on Windows 8 and 10. It's the first bit of PowerShell I've written, so any comments are welcome.

Opening up a powershell window and running this script isn't a lot quicker than editing the file manually, so I've also created a clickable shortcut to the script as described here. This avoids having to change the script execution policy on the machine, making an exception for this script only.

In Windows Explorer, create a new shortcut in the root folder of the GPS device (this might be E:\ or F:\).
Right-click on the new shortcut, and choose “Properties”.
Change the shortcut’s Target to the following: %SystemRoot%\system32\WindowsPowerShell\v1.0\powershell.exe -ExecutionPolicy Bypass -File "add_barometer.ps1"
You may also want to name the shortcut something like "windows_add_barometer.ps1.link".
Click “OK”.

Linux

This Linux script uses generic linux shell commands and has been tested on Ubuntu 14.04 and 16.04. It can be run from the command line with: sh linux_add_barometer.sh or possibly by double-clicking the file if you use one of the methods described here. I'm certainly not a shell expert, so again, your comments are welcome.

Mac

I'm told that it's possible to run *nix shell scripts under Mac OS, so the Linux solution may work with some tweaking. I'll update this post when I've tried it.

My experience of the alpha course

2016-04-03T21:32:00+01:00

Over the last couple of months, I've attended a local Alpha Course, organised by a friend I used to work with. I expect some who know me think that is a bit odd, given that I'm a non-believer, philosophical naturalist, agnostic-atheist, secular humanist, etc, etc.

I went along as I often find it interesting thinking about what other people believe and why. I also think it's good to talk with people with whom I disagree, lest I become lazy or narrow-minded. To be fair, the liberal Christians I got to know on the course probably shared many of my opinions about the world, just not the supernatural. If I really wanted to experience an utterly different world view I should probably chat to Britain First or UKIP. Maybe one day. Right now I feel like a rest!

I did miss a couple of the sessions, but I've done my best to cover those I did attend in a series of posts, written as I went along - see the list at the bottom.

The alpha course content is in the form of videos and books and much of it is available online for anyone interested. The videos I saw begin with a series of brief street interviews with members of the public, most of whom seemed to be under thirty. Overall, the style is more engaging than a typical church sermon and at times genuinely funny and interesting. However, it is clearly intended to convince the listener that Christianity is true and some of it still feels quite preachy. More seriously, some of the claims made by the speakers are factually incorrect, something that is apparent after only a few minutes of Internet searching. Another blogger previously pointed out that some of their arguments are so weak that they're not really arguments at all, just restatements of their opinion. Very uninspiring. In both cases I felt the speakers should have known better. I couldn't research every claim they made, but was disappointed that some of the ones I did check up on turned out to be false. Maybe everything else they said was true, but for me the videos lost credibility. I couldn't trust them as they seemed to be more interested in impressing us than with accuracy. I was surprised that others in the group seemed unconcerned. I'm not sure whether they were unaware of the facts and lacked the interest to investigate further or whether lying for Jesus is so commonplace that it goes unnoticed.

On the other hand, when I raised skeptical concerns in the small group discussions, often someone would agree and say that it didn't make sense to them either. This is one reason I enjoyed this part of the course so much. The openness and honesty. People didn't tend to recite doctrine so much as relate their experiences. I found this much more engaging as I've heard most of the religious ideas before but I'm still curious about the people who believe them. Interestingly, when I found agreement with my objections, it wasn't always the same person who would share my skepticism. I guess one person's nonsense is another's divine mystery. Though it seemed that none of these problems were sufficient for them to reject Christianity, which I guess is the big mystery to me.

Alpha presents a modern and flexible version of the religion, or "relationship with Jesus" as they tend to describe it. The adverts talk about "asking life's big questions", but a better subtitle would be "an introduction to Christianity" or "getting to know Jesus" because that is the actual theme of the alpha course. There's a whole world of interesting philosophical questions which would be unlikely to ever come up on the alpha course.

For anyone interested in what other people believe the small group sessions could be very enjoyable, but this depends entirely on how open, honest and thoughtful the others were. I was lucky to be chatting with a nice bunch of people. I can see how a group could easily be dominated by a particularly talkative attendee, despite the efforts of the facilitator to let everyone have their say.

Which leads me to my next point. The majority of those who attend alpha are already Christians, many of whom rave about how much fun it is, which is why some have done it several times. If you're not a Christian, you may find it difficult to get your point across. My group was very respectful of my opinion and I was never shouted down or interrupted. The point is, that when everyone is quite rightly given an equal chance to speak, the single dissenting voice can be lost. I found it hard to think on my feet and give good answers to the claims people made without being that guy who won't stop talking. Still, I enjoyed the challenge.

Although the alpha course is intended for everybody, I'm not sure whether I would recommend it to atheists or non-Christians. Most people in this country are already familiar with Christianity, so might not learn much. Also, conversations with the religious are tricky for atheists (or non-Christians) because atheism is typically a "passive" belief or a lack of a belief. Most atheists don't study atheism or meet up with other atheists to discuss it or sing songs about it. The same way people don't meet up to discuss the Earth being round. It's just a fact about the world that is accepted and mostly ignored. Religious people usually go to church and hence have a bit more practice at justifying their beliefs. So it can be hard to keep up. It seems that it's the same if you talk to people who think the Earth is flat, who seem to be very thoroughly misinformed and quite capable of bamboozling an unprepared skeptic.

What I would like to do is a similar course for other religions about which I know comparatively little and I was pleasantly surprised that the others liked this idea too. I don't know if any such thing exists, but I'll see what I can find.

Here are the links to my experiences of the individual course sessions:-

If you've had similar experiences or have any comments, I'd love to hear from you.

Alpha course 7b: Does God heal today?

2016-03-27T11:36:00+01:00

This post describes the latter part of a single alpha course evening session, the first part was about the church.

God's healing

Chris now moved onto talking about the supernatural healing that he believes God provides in response to prayers. He said that God healed in the old and new testament and, as God doesn't change, must be healing today. That is of course if you take the bible as true and historically accurate. He wanted to see more prayer and healing, to the extent that supernatural healing becomes natural or at least commonplace. He and others shared some amazing stories of people who had been prayed for, sometimes by large groups of people, and were cured of meningitis when apparently "a few hours from death" or other ailments both serious and trivial.

I asked Chris what he thought was happening when Christians prayed for healing. He said that God hears the prayer and may choose to intervene to heal that person, although it can't be expected to work every time because it's up to God, not us. I asked why the prayer was needed at all. You can't give an all-knowing god new information - he must know about the sick person. Presumably in his infinite wisdom he has decided not to heal them. So why would the pleadings of an imperfect human change his mind? Chris had already mentioned in his introduction that God doesn't change. His answer was an unsatisfactory but honest, "I don't know". I probed a little further asking why they'd mentioned getting large groups of people to pray at once. Would this make God more likely to hear or respond? Again Chris and Matt pleaded ignorance saying that there wasn't a particular formula and that they couldn't expect reliable results as it was out of their hands.

Others chimed in describing both their experiences and opinions on prayer and healing. The consensus seemed to be that, even though prayer might only have an effect less than half the time, it was always worth trying. Someone else commented that although physical healing would be wonderful, they also hope for mental or spiritual healing, which I took to mean the person simply feeling a bit better and more able to cope with their condition. This is no doubt a good thing, but even harder to measure and could easily be brought about by the feeling of love from knowing that a lot of people care about you and really want you to get better. Genuinely nice and worthwhile, but not necessarily supernatural.

It's interesting that people are willing to ignore all the cases where no effect is observed following a prayer, but become really impressed when there is a change for the better. I didn't hear anyone say, "It's a miracle!", but "Wow, that's amazing!" was a typical response. This leaves a lot of room for Postdiction or Argument by selective observation. In short, counting the hits and ignoring the misses. If a failed healing can never count as evidence against faith healing, then it's not reasonable to consider it true based on a few successes. It's an unfalsifiable belief, making it unscientific and no better than any pseudoscience or conspiracy theory.

When you take the more falsifiable proposition that prayer ought to yield healing results significantly better than chance and prayer is actually tested systematically, in the way that medicine is, there's no effect.

CONCLUSIONS:Intercessory prayer itself had no effect on complication-free recovery from CABG, but certainty of receiving intercessory prayer was associated with a higher incidence of complications.
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/16569567

I asked whether people thought there was any risk in praying for someone. The only suggestion anyone made was that others might think they were crazy. I think there are other, more serious risks. I started to explain the tragic case of Kara Neumann who died from undiagnosed diabetes when her parents prayed for her instead of seeking medical attention. When her condition worsened, they thought it was a test of their faith. I didn't have all the details memorised and as I paused to recall them other people started speaking. Another frustrating failure to get what I thought was an important point across. I guess I need to practise debating.

Chris and others repeatedly said that they always tell people who've been healed to go and get themselves checked out by a doctor. That's obviously the responsible thing to do. I forgot to ask whether this policy was a result of someone having neglected medical treatment, or whether anyone made any record of the results of these medical examinations. Secondly, I suppose that thinking there's a less than 50% chance it will work should encourage everyone to seek proper medical advice. Another thing which they thought was important was that the faith healing they do is all about Jesus and God - they're not trying to take the credit themselves. He contrasted this with televangelists who garner a great following for themselves and a lot of money to go with it. But to be fair to televangelists, if you can bear to watch them for more than a few seconds, they do mention Jesus and God about as often as possible!

Chris asked whether anyone wanted to be prayed for or had a friend or family member who was ailing. I think they were hoping I'd say something, but soon someone suggested the two members of the group who were absent due to sickness as well as the homeless man who had been shivering on the street outside the coffee shop. Then Matt started rubbing his left shoulder and suggested this might be a sign that someone needed help with a similar complaint. After a long pause, Jeff indicated that both his shoulders were sore. So Matt prayed for him for a few moments and asked Jeff if he was feeling any better. I think he said, "About the same". I've seen this kind of guess-the-illness game before and it seems like a great way to get mini miracle claims if the guesses are right or someone wants to play along. Presumably if no one, nor any of their friends or relatives, has the specified pain or ailment it's quietly dropped and assumed the person voicing the prayer was mistaken.

We chatted a bit more and in response to the suggestions that I "might as well try prayer healing", "What have you got to lose?", I made some comparisons to the beliefs of Buddhists I know who chant for healing and also have similar miraculous stories of success. I challenged Matt to go along and try that, but I doubted that he would. This reminds me of the following quote,

"I contend we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours."
- Stephen F Roberts

Time was runnning out, so they decided to finish the session with some music and a kind of free prayer session. Danni started the music on her phone and Matt voiced the first of the prayers giving thanks for the friendly alpha course we'd all experienced. We sat listening to the music for a bit longer and someone gave emotional thanks to God for her child, who despite early struggles with health is now doing well. After a while Matt started another prayer. I can't remember the exact words he used, but I'll paraphrase as follows:

"Lord, I pray that you might help those who might be struggling to know you and maybe if anyone has been hurt by church previously, or maybe not hurt, but turned off by church. I hope that they may come to experience your love, sometime in the next few weeks."

Seeing as I was the only atheist in the room, this seems to be pretty transparently aimed at me. I don't think I've been particularly hurt or turned off by church, except that church and Christians made me think it through a bit more carefully. I guess they're speculating and trying to make sense of my reluctance to accept their beliefs. This praying out loud thing seems to be a strange way to speak indirectly to people. If they actually wanted to communicate with God, why speak out loud? I suppose it's a way to share things with the group that people might not otherwise feel comfortable about. Like a support group, I suppose.

Once we'd all got up and started to move the chairs back, Chris came over to chat with me to check whether he had understood my questions correctly. During our discussions, lots of people had been talking at once which caused some confusion. He didn't need to do this, so I thought it was nice of him to make the effort. We had a brief chat and Chris suggested that the Buddhists I mentioned may also be experiencing genuine supernatural healing, because we don't know everything about spirits and how they work. I admit I was not expecting that! Christians admitting that other religions may have something supernatural and good going on. That raises a whole lot of interesting questions.

He also told me about a healing he'd witnessed where someone with unequal leg lengths had the shorter leg grow as people looked on. I've heard that this can be done as a magician's trick. Derren Brown shows one way it can be done and it's discussed further here. I said I wasn't saying that what Chris saw was definitely a trick, but that it can be done that way. To be honest, it seems like the more plausible explanation.

Before we left, a couple of books were pressed into my hands. We ended on friendly terms and we were all invited for an informal reunion at Jeff and Kim's place in a few weeks' time. I'm looking forward to it.

Alpha course 7a: The church

2016-03-25T08:59:00+00:00

The final session of the alpha course had two themes, the role of the church and asking whether God heals today. I think it was a bit of a shame that the two sessions were crammed into one as I think there was a lot to discuss here.

I arrived to find a smaller than usual group as a result of a couple of illnesses and the students heading home for Easter. This meant the two diminished groups formed one, slightly larger group. I was introduced to tonight's guest speaker, Chris.

The church

After some informal chat, Chris began his talk about the role of the church. He defined it rather broadly, not as a building or clergy or organisation, but more like a family, school, hospital and community. I don't think he was speaking particularly about their church, but about the idea of Christians meeting up to worship together. People shared stories about the wonderful feeling of being in church singing or enjoying others' company. They described it better than I do, but I understand these feelings and I think they're genuine. I don't think that there is anything supernatural attached to them, though. In fact I think the effect of a supportive community on an individual is much more significant than most people, including the religious, would believe. For one thing, I'd guess that a group of people such as in a church or other social organisation could enable people to believe pretty much anything. If that sounds like an exaggeration, try looking into Mormonism, Jehovah's Witnesses or any apocalyptic cult and see what they believe. It's a moot point whether their beliefs are more or less far-fetched than mainstream Christianity, but plenty of people do believe them. However outlandish a set of beliefs may seem to outsiders, for those whose entire family, colleagues and friends believe the same thing, I imagine it's easy to agree. In that situation, it takes a real oddball not to follow the herd. In fact, if I remember rightly, Chris mentioned that church is meant to strengthen people's faith and encourage them to believe.

Interestingly, there's also plenty of evidence that community and social relationships have a huge positive effect on people's health.

...social relationships affect a range of health outcomes, including mental health, physical health, health habits, and mortality risk.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3150158/

I did try to make this point and that this might explain many of the life-changing stories of people whose lives are changed for the better by joining a church. Before I could really get it across clearly, Matt quickly responded that the holy spirit and Jesus were a really important part of it. Then someone else started speaking. I didn't want to dominate the conversation but, as the only atheist in a slightly larger group, the dialogue felt a bit one-sided.

I'm going to discuss the healing talk in a second post, as it's getting rather long.

Alpha course 6: How can I resist evil?

2016-03-22T08:58:00+00:00

The alpha course video on the theme of evil featured a woman who was a sports presenter, although I didn't recognise her. Hardly surprising as I tend to play more sports than I watch. She told some somewhat amusing anecdotes about people getting into mild peril, but also highlighted the shocking scale of present day human trafficking. She went on to describe how she ended up being part of an all-female team who rowed the Atlantic to raise awareness and money for victims of human trafficking. I found this interesting and quite impressive.

Forming into our small groups again, I apologised for my absence at the extra evening session last week, hoping that Danni hadn't had to eat leftover curry for days. It seems I hadn't missed any miraculous happenings, but one of the group who had known things about Jesus in her head said she began to feel it in her heart, too. They'd had a good time, but it sounded like the videos were rather long. Still, it would've been more fun than lying in bed with a headache!

We moved on to discussing evil and it became apparent that most people who expressed a view thought that Satan was a real, concious being, partially defeated by God/Jesus, but still tempting people and aiming to destroy us. Apparently some people (not here) find it easier to believe in the devil than God, which seems odd to me. We had some interesting talks about the ideas of evil in different cultures and how for us in relatively comfortable lives in the west, things can often seem very grey, morally speaking, but in harsher parts of the world the contrast good and evil may be a starker black and white. We spent a little while discussing the problem of evil and why God allows the devil to exist, instead of imprisoning or disarming him somehow. At least a couple of people seemed to accept that with an all-powerful god around, anything which does happen must have his implicit approval. So the evils he allows are presumably for some higher purpose. Allowing the devil the freedom to harm people is presumably part of some grand plan that we mere humans can't comprehend. I don't think this line of reasoning solves the problem of evil, but I pointed out that it might be easier to accept things are necessary evils for those of us with relatively comfortable lives who are rarely on the sharp end of any serious evil.

Discussing this issue made me realise that different people in the group responded differently to the arguments I made. Everyone was polite and listened carefully and I of course tried to do the same, in spite of my impatience. However, some of them seemed to be unconcerned about, say the problem of evil, but really puzzled and frustrated by things we'd discussed in previous weeks, for example the need to sacrifice Jesus before God could forgive. It didn't seem like those who were comfortable with the problem of evil had got some really satisfying answer, just that it didn't bother them so much. Sometimes I'd raise a point and one person would say, "Yeah, that's never made sense to me". Great, I'd think, someone is actually thinking critically about their beliefs, but I'd make another point another time and the same person wouldn't see the problem. To me these all seem like equally good arguments and, in my opinion any one of them makes Christianity untenable. Maybe people are being inconsistently critical in their thinking, but I suppose it's just as likely that my explanations were rambling and incomprehensible in some cases. Maybe I bored people and they switched off.

The conversation later moved on to people's tales of feeling protected from evil or warned about evil, usually in a rather vague way. The girl whose mother ran into the room knowing she was silently choking, the guy who drove out to pickup his girlfriend unexpectedly, without knowing she was the last to leave the office and was feeling particularly vulnerable. The intervention of a higher power in their protection was mostly implied and no one was really offering this to me as evidence that their god was real, so I thought it would've been rude to point out that these things are easily explained as coincidences and that memory and the human mind isn't as reliable as we tend to expect.

It was a good chat and over too quickly, so I was glad when people suggested that after next week's final session we'd organise a post-alpha social.

Alpha course 5: Why and how should I tell others?

2016-03-14T09:37:00+00:00

I'm getting a bit behind with these write-ups, which actually describe meetings a week or two apart.

The next evening's subject was evangelism. However the feel of the video was a lot less pushy than the word "evangelism" usually implies. In contrast to the earlier alpha course videos, I didn't feel like I was sat in church, being preached to. She did speak about her relationship with Jesus, but hesitated to call herself a Christian. This was understandable as she related the story of her childhood, marred by the authoritarian church her father founded. She was visibly nervous, but came across as funny and genuine. Her take on evangelism was simply sharing something that you thought was great and compared it to getting a stunning view of the supermoon on her way home from work. All in all it was a very low-pressure message, which, I guess makes sense when alpha is aimed at everyone including new Christians who might be put off by having to preach their new faith.

In the group discussion people seemed to like this approach as they admitted to often feeling awkward talking to their non-Christian friends about attending church, possibly because of the bad reputation that a lot of Christians have as being self-righteous or moralising, things that this group are very adamant are to be avoided and certainly not "real Christianity". I like them for this, but as I pointed out, that some Christians are uptight isn't my main problem with the religion. In fact, I'd accept the teaching being authoritarian, if only they were true and made sense. It's certainly true that I like my alpha group as a bunch of people much more than the kind of people who stand in the street waving a bible and preaching hell fire, but liking them doesn't make them any more likely to be correct in their belief. Their take on Christianity might feel easier to accept, but it's no more likely to be true, in my view, than the fire and brimstone versions. Nice people can be mistaken. I'm only in my late thirties, but my experience of life so far has suggested that every group of people - whether grouped by politics, religion, race or interests - has some nice people and some unpleasant misanthropes. It's often the latter who get the most media coverage, something which is easy to be swayed by if the group is a minority or are unfamiliar to you. If you know a few Muslims who are decent folk, you're less likely to be influenced by the media portrayals of the few extremists who make the news instead if the many peaceful, considerate ones who don't.

At the end of the evening Danni made arrangements for the longer "Holy spirit" session which was at her house the following night. We were to watch the videos, eat curry and then "See what happens" she said with a grin and a shrug. This made me curious as it sounded like she was expecting some holy spirit magic to occur, which would've been very interesting. Regrettably I woke up the next day with a splitting headache and spent much of the day in bed recovering, so was unable to get to work, let alone the alpha course in the evening. I felt a bit bad about it as they'd done their best to arrange the session for a time I could make.

Chilly Hilly DIY 200km Audax

2016-03-02T14:13:00+00:00

Lately it's been hard to fit calendar audaxes around family commitments, so DIYs have filled the gaps, both to maintain fitness and to keep a half-hearted RRtY/AAARty going. It helps that the South-West DIY organiser, Tony Hull is helpful and encouraging and the new "mandatory route" system allows more precise planning.

Having taken a lengthy break from serious cycling after PBP, I first attempted this route last October. That time, after 100km and most of the hills, my legs felt weak and I'd gone a lot slower than anticipated, so I called it a day as the route passed close to home around the halfway point. Whether this is a sensible convenience or an unnecessary temptation is debatable. I finally completed the full 200 in December, after some more consistent training and commuting.

For my February attempt, the weather looked good for Sunday, so I set out at 7am, naively hoping to be back between 5 and 6pm. I had tweaked the route to include more smooth surfaces and straight roads on the descents, in the hope I could make up some time. As I wound my way through Biddestone, Castle Coombe and Ford things were going well. It was cold, but there didn't seem to be any ice about and after an hour or two I even shed some layers of clothing.

I'm not sure what tune I was humming, but I think it was Everyone's a VIP to someone, by The Go! Team.

After a thrilling descent of Bannerdown hill, I knew the steepest climb of the day was approaching. As before I struggled up the relatively gentle gradient of Bathampton High Street wondering how I'd cope with the wall-like 33% of Prospect Place. I've managed this climb a few times now, but it always calls for the lowest gear and an out-of-the-saddle effort for some 100m. I even weave across the narrow rough road in an attempt to reduce the effective gradient. Sometimes I wobble into the muddy bank and find it impossible to get back on again. This time I stayed on the bike, but by halfway up, not only were my legs aching, but I was puffing uncontrollably. It probably would've been smarter to walk, but I can be stubborn sometimes. At the top I rewarded myself with a banana and looked forward to the long gentle descent on the A-road. Then I doubled back on myself towards Bradford-on-Avon, over the viaduct at Avoncliffe and through Freshford, with plenty more climbs and some nice views. Crossing the A36 the lights were in my favour so I dashed straight onto the bottom of Brassknocker hill. Feeling the ache I used my habitual "photo" excuse for a quick breather. Up and down a couple more times, hugely enjoying the smooth surface on Ralph Allen drive, I got off to avoid the roadworks and congestion at the bottom and began the long climb of Widcombe hill. Around halfway up another cyclist caught up with me and we enjoyed some friendly chit-chat. This annoyed of a couple of motorists who seemed unaware that the highway code allows cyclists to ride two abreast. I gave a big, friendly wave in response to their hoots - what else can you do? I could tell by the ease with which my companion was talking while climbing, that he was feeling stronger than me. As he pulled away I resisted the temptation to give chase, knowing I still had more than 2000m to gain.

Back down through the centre of Bath I noted that the traffic was lighter than in December, maybe Sunday is a better day for riding through town. The short, sharp climb up Alpine Gardens was too much and I got off to push for a bit. I then had a good five minutes of fairly flat riding past Victoria Park to recover before Lansdown and the climb of Weston hill. Not ferociously steep, but long and relentless. I stopped for a brief rest and to moisten the hedgerow, but there was little cover - one car tooted their horn which I interpreted as saying "We know what you're doing!".

The long, straight descent back into town brought my average speed back up a bit. It was looking OK for my 12:30 lunch date in Lacock with my wife and daughter. At Charlcombe I was surprised by a closed road sign. Unsure of how far the detour would be, I thought I'd see if I could squeeze through. Further on the detailed warning explained about the annual toad migration. As it hadn't rained in several days, I thought I'd go slowly and look out for amphibians crossing. Happily, I passed through without encountering any animals and went on my way. I managed the next couple of modest hills slowly, but steadily. It was only when I got to the long and occasionally steep Steway Lane that I got off to walk. At the top the Northerly wind which had pushed me up Bannerdown road now made even the slight downhill an effort, but it wasn't for long. Climbing Ham Lane I was again forced to dismount by failing leg strength. After that there were few hills before lunch in Lacock, so I had a bit of recovery time. I was going to be a few minutes late due to walking, but near enough.

As I crawled up Mons Lane near Lacock an immaculate blue and cream VW camper van waited patiently for me whilst loudly emitting the sound of Green Onions. I passed slowly, nodding my head in time to the music and the driver grinned back at me. I met with my family and we hunted for a while for a place to eat which wasn't full, eventually settling on a bakery where I had a veggie pasty, hot chocolate and carrot cake. I wasn't sure if this was too much and would make me uncomfortably full for the next stage. My stomach was shouting "Bring it on!", so I went for it with thankfully no discomfort, despite the 16% hill climb soon after. Based on previous experience, I think I was lucky. The second steep climb I had to walk for a bit, but it was my legs, not stomach that were protesting.

As I rounded a corner by Maud's Heath Causeway, I heard the unmistakable hiss of a big puncture. Not a real blowout, but my front tyre was completely flat within two seconds. I had come prepared, so set out to fix it. A quick inspection showed nothing stuck in the tyre, but when I pulled it off the rim I noticed a 10mm rip in the sidewall. Ah. That could be tricky. If I replaced or patched the tube, the hole would likely cause it to pop through the hole in the tyre as soon as I inflated it. I remembered that I had some duct/gaffer tape wound around one of my tyre levers, so carefully cut a strip of that to cover the rip. It seemed to hold. As I rode off I remembered that I do also have a couple of tyre boots which would've been better than the tape.

The tyre seemed to hold up, but there was another problem. My light had run out of charge. Thinking I wouldn't be out for long in the dark, I'd switched my dynamo light for the Ixon IQ battery light and had kept it on low power for better visibility in the day. This should've been fine for ten hours, but I guess the near-zero temperatures made the batteries less efficient. Anyway, I knew I'd have to stop to buy some replacement AAs. I was passing close to Malmesbury, so I diverted into town to the Co-Op and also got some water. An extra 2km, no big deal. A little while later in Tetbury I rode right past another Co-Op which would've been easier. Still, I'll know for next time.

At some point the internal jukebox switched to Curlews, which I'd been listening to at work recently.

The sun was setting slowly and the scenery was pleasant. For another couple of hours I climbed almost imperceptibly into the Cotswolds, occasionally into the wind. I was tired, but comfortable. As I approached the final hilly loop towards Uley the road dropped into a pictureque valley, half-shaded by the setting sun. I almost stopped for a photo, but decided to keep moving. Nearing the bottom of the last downhill into the village my front tyre again went suddenly flat. I was pleased how the bike still handled OK and I was able to keep control for the 60 or 70m needed to stop. Yes, my earlier repair had failed and a 7pm finish was now looking optimistic, but I wasn't too grumpy about it. At least the village had a bench for me to sit on as I worked on the repair. Knowing I'd have a bit of digestion time I started by munching a rather stale cereal bar and examining the tube. The previous self-adhesive patch seemed to be doing its job, but another hole had sprung up right next to it, in line with the rip in the tyre. It was so close to the first repair that I wasn't confident it would cover the hole properly, so I went for a new tube. After getting this and the tyre boot into the tyre and onto the rim, I realised the valve was too short and no amount of struggling with the pump would make a seal good enough to inflate it. Argh, poor planning, James! Back to the original double-patched tube. Hurrying with cold fingers I thought I'd pinched it a couple of times, but eventually it went in properly and seemed to hold air. Phew! I texted my wife with yet another ETA and set off through the village to find the last big climb of the day.

I tried not to think about my bodged repairs and enjoyed the last good views of the day as the sun set. The climb was long, but manageable. I suppose it helped that I'd just had a half-hour rest! Back at the top with little or no wind and a slight downhill I made good speed back through familiar places such as Westonbirt and Norton. The only thing which impeded my progress was that my light was set slightly too low, so I could only see the potholes about ten metres ahead and I was nervous about crashing into them on an iffy front tyre. Nevertheless I made it home after a couple of hours in the dark, tired but not exhausted.

The tyre with the rip is a Continental 4Seasons, but it's done about 8000km, so it owes me nothing and is destined for the bin. Next time I'll make sure the tubes I carry fit the wheel!

Outrageous claims shared too soon

2016-02-29T06:02:00+00:00

A friend of mine recently shared a post on Facebook claiming:

THIS WEEK, THE UK DEBATED WHETHER TO REMOVE THE HOLOCAUST FROM ITS SCHOOL CURRICULUM BECAUSE IT 'OFFENDS' THE MUSLIM POPULATION WHICH CLAIMS IT NEVER OCCURRED.

Sounds terrible, doesn't it? The whole UK debating ignoring an important historical event because it offends the Muslim population?

Pandering to holocaust deniers when setting a school curriculum would be a heinous crime against history.

Obviously.

So obviously that I'm a bit incredulous.

I'm curious about what actually happened, what was the actual debate and what was the outcome? The post is presumably intended to make people fearful that their culture is being eroded by some scary outsiders. It doesn't include any specifics and who, where or when this "debate" occurred. So I looked it up. It took all of five minutes to refute this gross misrepresentation of the facts. Snopes.com in contrast provides plenty of specifics and links to sources:-

Its central claim, that schools in Britain no longer teach about the Holocaust for fear of offending Muslim students, isn't on the money: Even news articles that bore headlines such as "Teachers drop the Holocaust to avoid offending Muslims" only cited a single example of one history department in a northern UK school that did that (and for reasons other than avoiding "offending Muslims"). In all the rest of the country's schools, information about the Holocaust was still being imparted to students.

As it happens, you don't have to look too far to find Christian holocaust deniers, but presumably the authors of this wouldn't tar all Christians with that enormous brush?

Why are people so keen to share this kind of divisive rhetoric that demonises large groups of people, often Muslims, without doing the most basic fact-checking?

When a post says something outrageous, it's worth hunting for the original news articles and getting to the bottom of the issue, or at least seeing some other opinions on it. Seriously, five minutes is all it takes.

When a post says, "Share if you think this is an outrage" I think we should add "...and you've actually checked it's true."

Alpha course 4: How do I have faith?

2016-02-23T21:33:00+00:00

I arrived in the now familiar upstairs room of the coffee shop for the fourth proper session of the Alpha course a bit before 7pm. I spent the first half hour chatting with Matt, Katie and Mandy, mostly about children.

After the video presentation, we formed our usual groups for discussion. Dannii asked Tom for a definition of faith, the subject of the talk, which he'd looked up somewhere. I don't remember the exact quote, but it was something like,

"Believing something without proof"

I don't think that's a helpful definition, because none of our knowledge is proven. Scientific theories are never proven. Sounds odd but they're not. The theory of gravity isn't proven. The best theories are simply not (yet) disproven. They're tentative, consistent with the evidence, but always potentially able to be proven wrong. In fact Newton's theory of gravity was disproven and was rewritten by Einstein. Proof, as they say, is for mathematics and alcohol.

Tonight's video sermon was about faith. The speaker was called Emily and she provided a lot of analogies and stories about her experience of faith and how it often differs between Christians. She also said, and again I paraphrase,

Faith is like trust and everyone is familiar with trust. An atheist trusts that there's no God.

This kind of claim has come up in previous videos and I've often heard Christians telling me that you need just as much faith to be an atheist. This feels all kinds of wrong and I've spent some time trying to work out why. It seems like religious apologists recognise that faith has a bad reputation as a way of believing things and it is associated with blindness and ignoring the evidence. Mark Twain wrote that faith is "Believing something you know ain't so".

So, in addition to making regular reference to the historical and personal evidence, they seek to rescue the idea of religious faith by comparing it with secular ideas of trust and faith in people. In contrast to what is said about atheism, my take on it isn't so much of a belief, but a lack of one. If you need faith not to believe in a god, then you need faith not to believe in unicorns, or all the other gods which you reject. A theist could argue that an atheist needs to have faith that the universe spontaneously came into being without a creator, but I don't think this is even necessary. I'd say that I don't know how or why the universe exists, but that all the religious explanations I've heard have been implausible or impossible.

If you think that all faith is the same thing, Greta Christina has made a comparison of secular and religious faith in which she quotes a lot of religious sources about what they think faith is. In my opinion this sums up the issue rather neatly, so I won't attempt to improve on it.

My Alpha group spoke quite a bit about other religions and it's something they seem to show genuine interest in. Perhaps it's worth noting that most, if not all, of the world's religions rely on faith. Presumably Christians would agree that the Hindu god Vishnu isn't real, he's fictional. I happen to agree about that. The same goes for Mithra, Zeus, Odin and thousands of other gods in which people have believed and in some cases still do believe. How do people believe in these gods we think are fictional? At least in part, through faith.

When we were talking about the start of a relationship with Jesus, Tom asked why it has to be through faith. I didn't have much to say at the time, but on further thought I'd suggest that it's because Christianity doesn't make sense. Religious faith allows people to believe things which don't make sense. I imagine people agree that other religions use faith to believe things which don't make sense, so why not Christianity?

For example, when a believer prays for the health of a loved one, the ailing person will often get better or find a new way to cope with their illness. This is taken as evidence that God is real and listening to prayers. If the loved one's health didn't improve or took a serious turn for the worse, then the believer might be told that they need to have faith, or even that their faith is being tested. Never can it be taken as a sign that God isn't really there. Faith encourages believers to ignore half the evidence - the half which doesn't support the religion. I think this is a clear example of bias and one which is positively encouraged by many religions.

Of course, none of this occurred to me until I was on the train home, or on the train to work the next day. I just mumbled something about other faiths and how it shouldn't be considered the would-be believer's fault when things don't make sense to them. Anyway, I had some nice informal chats with people at the end and on the way out. I'm not yet sure if I can make it next week, but I look forward to meeting with them again.

Alpha course 3: Why did Jesus die?

2016-02-20T10:58:00+00:00

Having previously been frustrated having to leave just when the discussions were getting interesting, this time I decided that I'd stay and have to wait for the late train.

I was one of the first to get there, but was glad to recognise Kim and Jeff from last time. We chatted about children and work while Matt brought in cakes and wrestled with the projector. Jeff also mentioned that he liked my suggestion from last time about finding out whether other religions offered an Alpha course-style introductions and going along. Other people also made enthusiastic noises. To be honest, I had only expected people to pay lip-service to the idea, in the spirit of open-mindedness. I'm pleasantly surprised that this was brought up again.

Tonight's half-hour video was called "Why did Jesus die?", presented by a youthful and charismatic chap called Toby. 'Fraid I didn't catch his surname. He spoke humbly about how we all have things we've done we're not proud of and that this sin separates us from God and how Jesus died to take on all that sin so we could have a relationship with God. He went to some length to explain this with a book covering one hand (us) blocking us from God (up there), then the other hand (Jesus) taking the book away. This seemed a bit unnecessary and, for me, simply laboured the point (that Jesus died for our sins), rather than addressing the more important "why" question.

Although they set the theme for the discussions which follow, I find the videos tedious. Having been a Christian in my younger days and attended a friendly church youth group for years, this didn't teach me anything new. While the talk was peppered with some amusing stories and jokes, it still felt like preaching. Thankfully we soon got into our familiar groups, mine led by Dannii, along with Jeff, Beth and Jenny.

We spoke a bit about the contents of last week's talk and I mentioned the Liar, Lunatic, Lord trilemma to which Dannii responded with interest. While, by their own admission they didn't have satisfactory answers, my group didn't try to avoid the questions by acting like it wasn't an issue or answering an easier one instead. I like their attitude, I have a feeling this is going to be fun. Jeff spoke a bit about how he became a Christian and his many doubts and experiences. He only summarised the main bits, but it was interesting and I hope to hear more of this another time.

People talked for a while about how amazing they thought it was that God was willing to die for them. I asked why they thought that was necessary. If a human wants to forgive someone, we don't have to have someone killed first. So a human can do something that God can't do? There was a frank admission that this didn't make sense and that it was something that they struggle with as well. I was relieved not to get a typical "politician's answers" to this, though they did move on to saying that there are lots of things in the world we don't understand, yet accept and "I guess that's where faith comes in". I did briefly ask why they should choose one faith over another, but I think faith is next week's subject so I guess we'll discuss that more later.

The conversation moved onto the Alpha video's themes of guilt and forgiveness and we were invited to share personal stories on this theme. I racked my brains but couldn't think of any interesting examples. No problem as others did. They were in some cases personal, so I won't share the details, but I found their experiences interesting and increased my feeling that they're a decent bunch of people. In one case I was able to sympathise having also experienced the conflict of forgiving someone whom others did not. I think forgiveness between humans is a rather different thing to what they're describing with God.

God's forgiveness was described as a blank cheque, forgiving anyone who accepted it of whatever they might have done. We talked through the implications of this, arriving at original sin, which in my opinion makes what people have done wrong in their lives seem a bit irrelevant when it comes to God's forgiveness. In fact original sin is a bit of a philosophical mess in many ways, which may be why it wasn't mentioned in the video.

I said I thought that it was an odd kind of justice that condemns people for failing to meet an impossible standard and that access to the salvation of Jesus was rather unevenly distributed, comparing the opportunity of the apostle Thomas, who supposedly touched the resurrected Jesus to check if he was real, and the Australian Aboriginals who died many years before Christianity reached their shores.

Dannii and others have obviously thought this through before. They said they believe that God is a just god and wouldn't condemn people unfairly. Dannii also offered to find the bible verse which confirmed this. Someone else added that the same would apply to those mentally incapable of understanding.

"Or just a bit difficult?", I said with a grin, indicating myself.

"Ah, that comes down to choice, James", Jeff responded.

I said "Oh don't get me started on choice...". This got a little laughter, but I knew that we were drifting from the topic and I don't want to bore people with my opinions at the expense of listening to others. My main reason for going to Alpha is to better understand people who disagree with me and you don't do that by talking all the time. As it happened time was up, so maybe we'll discuss that another time.

As promised, Dannii later posted on the Alpha course's Facebook page with the reference, Romans 2:1-16. It's worth reading the whole thing, but here's a quote which seems to support her argument of people being saved without necessarily knowing Jesus.

God “will repay each person according to what they have done.”... "To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life."

On it's own that sounds quite a convincing argument, but if you look at other Bible verses, faith in Jesus, specifically Jesus, not just a vague, benevolent creator, is required. See John 14:6.

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

So it's not looking good for the early Aboriginals. Looking at what people have written online about this, most of the debate is not over whether faith is required, but whether good works are required in addition to faith. There's a fair bit of inconsistency and contradiction. Christians don't all agree on this apparently-important issue.

But let's say for the sake of argument than Dannii is right and people such as the early Aboriginals who never got a chance to hear Jesus' message can be saved by good works alone. If that's true, then why are Christians always preaching about opening up to a relationship with Jesus, instead of telling everyone to be as morally good as they can? Why did missionaries go to great lengths to spread the word of God? Were they misguided? On the other hand, maybe even if it isn't strictly necessary, there is some advantage in the relationship with Jesus, with regards to salvation. Perhaps it makes it easier to do good works and resist evil? If so, we're back at the unfair advantage for some over others.

At this point some Christians might throw up their hands and say, "We don't actually know how God judges people to be worthy of salvation, but we trust that he's fair about it". Yet that's not how it sounds when they're talking about the importance of Jesus and accepting his sacrifice. If it's reasonable to say that God's will is mysterious and unknowable, then there doesn't seem to much point trying to understand the Bible and various views on it, because one person's guess is as good as another's.

Alpha Course 2: Who is Jesus?

2016-02-17T13:23:00+00:00

I was unable to attend the third week of alpha, but I understand that the theme is "Who is Jesus?". Alpha has a half-hour Nicky Gumbell video on this title, which is presumably what everyone else watched, so I caught up on that at home. (EDIT: Actually it was the same talk by Stephen Foster, with a different cake as a visual aid). I was very sorry to miss out on the group discussion which followed as I'm interested in how much people take this at face value and how much thought they give it.

There's a lot I could say about the video, but I'll concentrate on the main points which interested me.

First is the claim of evidence for Jesus outside of the Bible. In my view, how much of the Bible is historical and how much is fictional is a really important question. It's something that the rest of the course and many of the subsequent claims depend. I guess that's why it's covered first.

One of my group helpfully posted a link on the Facebook group to Lee Strobel's The Case For Christ. As it happens, I've already read this book a few years ago as well as a critical review of it in the form of Earl Doherty's Challenging the verdict. To be honest, even Strobel's book alone made me less convinced of the historical accuracy of the Bible. Back when I counted myself as a Christian, I'd always assumed that the gospels were written very close to the time of the events, by Jesus' disciples, but this is not the case. The earliest gospel is thought to be Mark, written around 60 CE - some 30 years after the events. Even assuming that it was written by someone who personally witnessed the events, the delay in writing would cause a lot of errors and uncertainty. I can't accurately recall conversations from my wedding day, less than ten years ago. Anyone trying to think back 30 years would've had to be vague or embellish their memories with invented details.

Josephus and Tactitus are mentioned as historical sources from outside the Bible. Both of these are covered in reviews of Lee Strobel's book, but it's worth noting that even the carefully-picked scholars he interviewed have to admit that the writings of Josephus at least contained "interpolations" by Christian authors, while other scholars believe the passages to be inserted in their entirety.

That surprised me. Even the committed Christian scholars acknowledge that early Christians were not above doctoring historical documents to bolster the case for their religion. That's a massive admission and one which, for me, totally invalidates Josephus's writing as evidence of Jesus and casts doubt on others. Add these dubious writings with the surprising silence of many contemporary writers and a mythical Jesus seems more likely. I guess Gumbell and Foster must know all this, but they still present the passage from Josephus's Antiquities as if it was strong evidence. It makes me wonder what else they've misrepresented.

Another interesting thing they mention the Liar Lunatic Lord trilemma. You only have to look as far as Wikipedia to see there's a conspicuously-absent fourth option - Legend. This is the possibility that the New Testament's account of Jesus was at least partly fictional, that words were put into his mouth by later writers or those who passed on the legend by word of mouth. I guess this omission comes from the Christian assumption that the Bible is historical rather than mythical, which part of the question this is trying to answer in the first place.

Finally, Stephen Foster states that Jesus was the first to tell people to love their enemies and that no one has improved on his moral teachings.

On the contrary, there are multiple examples from across the world, hundreds or thousands of years before Jesus, expressing the sentiment of loving one's enemy. For example:

Do not return evil to your adversary; Requite with kindness the one who does evil to you, Maintain justice for your enemy, Be friendly to your enemy.
- Akkadian Councils of Wisdom (from the ancient Babylonian civilization that existed two millennia before Jesus was born)

Admittedly I'm not a historian and I haven't looked in detail at the age of these texts, but I think it's at least plausible that they didn't all get this idea from Jesus. I don't know whether Nicky Gumbel and Stephen Foster are ignorant of these other writers or deliberately misleading people with these claims, but either way it casts doubt on what they're saying. I think they both trained as barristers, so maybe they'd excuse themselves by saying that in fact no one had previously used the exact words "Love your enemies". That's still disingenuous in my book.

The next claim was that no one has ever improved on Jesus' moral teachings. From some of what's written in the Bible, Jesus could be said to be quite progressive for his day, but I think we can also say there are some serious omissions. Most people today would consider the abolition of slavery, women's suffrage, animal welfare and the universal declaration of human rights as moral progress, but as far as I know you can't find these ideas in the Gospels and in some cases could be said to flatly contradict the Bible. Otherwise you might have expected early Christians to endorse these ideas. There are also plenty of things Jesus said which more progressive Christians would disagree with, or at least have a hard time justifying.

I think it's fair to say that most people could improve on this kind of morality.

All of which leaves me rather disappointed with the Alpha course's official content. Still, I'm hugely enjoying the group discussions which follow.

Alpha Course 1: Is there more to life than this?

2016-02-01T22:42:00+00:00

Back for the second session of the Alpha Course and there were indeed more people, as well as the familiar faces from last week. I chatted to a musician called Jeff and we found common ground over troubles with our technological tools getting in the way of the real work we wanted to do.

Tonight we were to watch a video presentation by Charlie Mackesy. I joined Mandy and David on the sofa. David was surprised that I was back after my comment last week about the course being mis-advertised. I had been mostly positive and said I was interested by the whole idea of discussing these big questions; I guess I've got some way to go in expressing myself clearly. The video took a little while to set up, but was entertaining. Charlie gave an eccentric account of his journey to Christianity, littered with genuinely funny jokes and quotes from Ghandi, Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry. This was a personal account, not an academic argument for his beliefs, but I expect most people find personal accounts more persuasive. I was a little irked at how he presented his former, atheist self as cynical and naive. I don't know, those things may have been true of him, but the stereotype smears all atheists, cynical and not.

When the video finished we formed two groups of about 7 people and did the introductions again, as there were some new people. This time we had to say what item we'd like to take to a desert island. Plenty of people went for books or technology, though two others, like me, chose a musical instrument. I admitted I was not a very good guitarist, but that would be ideal with no one to hear me. I also restated my reasons for attending Alpha including that I would like to learn to express myself better.

We moved on to talking about the video and what we thought. There was a bit of an awkward pause with everyone waiting for each other to speak, so I leapt in saying I thought the speaker was pretty funny. People agreed and the conversation moved on to the misconceptions about Christianity that had been mentioned. One girl whose name I didn't catch said she gets a bit of a worried reaction when she mentions going to church. I found this all really interesting, so was annoyed when my alarm went off for my train. I apologised for the interruption and she finished what she had to say and two others gave similar stories, with Jeff admitting that he wasn't sure when someone, particularly in America, told him they were Christian what kind of Christian they meant. As I put on my jacket and left I managed to point out that other beliefs, such as atheism or Islam are similarly misunderstood and that I'd aim to consider people as individuals as much as possible, separate for any labels. This received some nods, though regrettably I had to make my excuses and leave.

They're a nice bunch and I'd like to spend the time getting to know them better. I need to work out a way to stay a little later so as not to miss most of the discussions at the end, as that's the most interesting bit for me.

Alpha Course Introduction

2016-01-31T13:21:00+00:00

A friend I used to work with, Matt is running an Alpha Course locally, so I agreed to go along. Actually he prefers to say "facilitating" than running. It seems they're really keen not to come off as preachy or laying down the law, saying "All opinions welcome." I'm not a believer, in fact I'm a philosophical naturalist, an agnostic atheist humanist and probably some other labels too. As you can probably guess, I've given it some thought. Matt's well aware of this as we've discussed religion in the past.

I arrived at the first session on my way home from work. It was being held in a coffee shop with a comfy function room upstairs and Matt was providing free cakes and coffees for anyone who wanted them. He greeted me enthusiastically and we chatted about work and family. I was introduced to the few others who could make the first session, apparently more were coming the following week. Everyone was very friendly and I did my best to remember people's names.

The course is meant for everyone, but from what I've heard the majority of people on it are already Christians. The first thing I noticed about the adverts online and offline is that they carefully avoid mentioning Christianity or Jesus. This seems a bit odd when, from everything I've read, it's a Christian recruitment course. The aim is to turn people into Christians, or at least give them a push in that direction. Instead the adverts talk only about asking "The big questions" or "the meaning of life". Some of them ask "What does God think of me?". Given the aims of the course wouldn't a more suitable subtitle be, "An introduction to Christianity"? Do they think that being explicit about the content would put people off? EDIT: It seems I'm not the only one who spotted the Alpha Course's apparently deliberate bait and switch tactic.

I voiced this query to the organisers in my rather ineloquent and clumsy way and they replied that it was of course a Christian perspective on the the big questions, but they're not big on religion, rather the relationship with Jesus. I get the impression this will be a recurring theme. Whatever the reasoning behind the adverts, it's good that the organisers and their friends are so keen to be welcoming to other opinions. I'll attempt to do them the courtesy of taking their opinions seriously and I hope they'll do the same for me.

Before the course begins in earnest next week we started by getting to know people with an introduction. We took it in turns to say what we hoped to get out of the course and name our favourite film. Thankfully, everyone also repeated their names. Like me, most people said they were interested in discussing the "big questions" and hearing other people's views. I chose Interstellar as my favourite film, citing the big moral dilemmas and moving father-daughter relationship. I also apologised that I'd have to run for a train a little earlier than most, probably just as things got interesting! After introductions we chatted informally and I spoke with the chap sitting next to me, Adrian who is a long-standing member of Matt's church. We spoke a bit of our careers and experience and his beliefs. I was enjoying the conversation, but as predicted we were interrupted by my phone alarm indicating that the train was leaving soon, so I thanked the organisers and got on my way.

They're a friendly bunch and I look forward to chatting more with them over the coming weeks. I probably won't be able to make all the sessions as my wife usually likes to play badminton on Monday nights, so to be fair to her I'll have to do my share of the babysitting. I hope I don't find myself asking a question only to be told "I'm sorry, James. We covered that to everyone's satisfaction last week!".

How should I buy a road bike?

2015-09-13T19:46:00+01:00

Despite being a relative newcomer to cycling, I seem to get asked this a lot, so rather than write the same advice out every time I thought I'd put my opinions down here. This is mostly aimed at the casual cyclist looking to gain fitness, commute or just have fun.

I've tried to avoid fashion or hype and provide links to elaborate on my suggestions. I love new shiny kit as much as the next cyclist, but you should be under no illusions that having slightly lighter wheels or carbon fibre cranks is going to make a measurable difference to your riding. However, you might pedal harder on expensive kit if you're keen to feel that you didn't waste your money. You only have to look at the wide variety of bikes on which people rode Paris Brest Paris or the guy who did the Tour de France route on a Chopper to realise that you don't need the latest greatest kit to take on ambitious rides. So don't re-mortgage your house just yet.

How much should you spend?

While this is to some extent a personal question, some general guidance may be helpful. At the time of writing I would say that it's hard to get a decent, reliable new bike for less than £400. If you have less money to spend than that, I'd suggest buying second hand if you have the time and inclination to do some research.

When you're spending around £100 on a complete bike, it's very likely to be a BSO, or "bike-shaped object" - a shiny piece of metal that will rust and fall apart when used. Buy cheap, buy twice.

To avoid ending up with a BSO: - Buy only from shops which specialise in bikes - not supermarkets or hardware stores. Find a shop where the staff understand bikes. - Buy a bike of a known brand for which you can find multiple reviews online.

What's most important?

Fit. The size. The shape of the bike compared to the shape of your body. Nothing I mention further down is more important than this.

Get this wrong and your riding will be inefficient and uncomfortable. No of top-of-the-range groupset will compensate if your knees are locking out or your hands hurt from pressure on the bars.

A bike that fits will be a joy to ride, you'll be able to ride further in comfort and want to do so more often, so you'll end up fitter and faster. Fit is more important if you intend to be riding all day.

So how do you get it right? There's a risk that the guy in the shop may want to sell you the bike which is in front of you, so it's a good idea to have an idea of your right size before you start shopping. You can work this out for yourself with a tape measure and some online advice. If you're really serious or an unusual size, you can also seek the advice of an independent professional. A good local bike shop ought to help you get the basics right, however.

If you're serious about efficiency and/or comfort, then once you've bought a bike that is roughly the right size you can pay to have an expert "fitting" to work out your optimal saddle height, reach, crank length, etc. If you're keen on increasing your speed, this is probably money better spent than that groupset upgrade. For the casual commuter however, unless they have any serious issue with comfort, a full professional fit would be excessive. If you don't have the budget for that, but want to sort out some comfort issues yourself, there's a helpful guide to DIY bike fit here.

Practicalities...

You should ask yourself what kind of riding you intend to do. Some things like pedals or saddles are easy to change, but other things are more fundamental. I've probably missed a few, but here are some questions you should think about. - Do you want drop bars (more aerodynamic, more varied hand positions for comfort), or straight (simpler, better control on rough ground), or something else? - Do you want to carry kit on the bike? This is generally easier and more comfortable than carrying it on your body, especially for longer distances. Not all bikes have rack mount eyelets built into the frame and while there are alternative solutions, they might not be ideal if you want to carry anything other than bike spares and clothes. If you want to carry a lot, then it may be worth going for a touring bike which will having longer chain-stays so that your heels clear the rear panniers when pedalling.

Do you want to fit full mudguards? They don't noticeably affect aerodynamics and can make you and your kit a lot drier and more comfortable as well as being friendly to the guy behind, provided they're long enough. On the other hand, if you're strictly a fair weather cyclist who's planning to hang up the bike in winter, you might not want to bother. If you do want full mudguards, you'll need to think about frame clearances and what size tyres you plan to use (see next point). If your frame doesn't have the clearance their are various compromise options available.
How wide do you want your tyres? Wider tyres are by far the biggest factor in a comfortable ride, especially on rougher roads. Suspension parts may take the bigger shocks, but a large volume tyre is the best thing for absorbing vibrations. Wheel-build, frame material and handlebar design, etc make a negligible difference compared to tyres. Wider tyres can be run at a lower pressure without risking pinch-flats. They may look less sporty but, up to a point, they're just as fast as skinny tyres. If you'd like especially wide tyres, it may affect your choice of brakes, which are often the limiting factor. Caliper brakes have limited clearance, while cantilevers and disc brakes allow much more.

Don't worry too much about...

The saddle. This is easy to change and is a personal choice - no one saddle will be right for everyone. It's hard to tell in advance what will suit you, so if you find you don't like the one which comes with the bike, you might need to try a few others out. Expensive ones won't necessarily be more comfortable, but are often lighter. In my experience the angle the saddle is tilted at can have a large effect on comfort, so it's worth tweaking before you bin an awkward perch.
Weight. The weight of the bike and components makes a small difference to acceleration and climbing, but remember to consider any weight difference as a fraction of the all-up weight - bike + rider + water bottles + equipment. 500g may sound like a lot, but for a 75kg rider on a 10kg bike with 1kg of water and 1kg of luggage it's around 0.6% and unlikely to be noticeable. You also shouldn't get too hung up on "rotating weight" either.
Frame material. There are fast riders doing huge distances on bikes made from carbon, steel, aluminium, titanium, bamboo and more. They're all perfectly serviceable. Steel and titanium are reputed to offer more comfort, absorbing road vibrations. This is no doubt true, but dwarfed by the effect of slightly wider tyres or having your weight nicely shared between feet, hands and bum.
The number of gears. If you know your optimal cadence to 2 decimal places, then maybe having an 11-speed cassette will increase your power output. For normal people 8 speed is plenty, some do fine on one. Nothing wrong with having more, but don't pay through the nose in the hope it will revolutionise your ride. What is more important is how low your lowest gear is. That will make the biggest difference to your average speed. You can compare different combinations with Sheldon Brown's online gear calculator. For reference, unless you live in a very flat part of the country, I suggest your lowest gear should be no higher than a Gain Ratio of 2.5 or 33.7 inches.

I suggest you do...

Buy from your Local Bike Shop (LBS). If you like the fact that there's a small, independent retailer in your town, if you'd like to be able to pop in there for last minute spares and repairs, then you should at least consider buying a bike from them. They're usually helpful, friendly and provide a better service than the big chains.
If you're on a tight budget you can get some good deals second-hand from Gumtree or Ebay. However, you do have to know what you're looking for, especially in terms of bike size and replacing any worn components. If the frame is an old one, consider what the cost and availability of spare parts might be.
Take the bike for a ride. If you haven't owned a road bike before, try several at different places before you buy. Bike designs will vary in their handling due to their geometry. Some will feel stable, others more manoeuvrable, maybe even "twitchy". The easiest way to see the difference is to ride a few at a variety of speeds and see what you prefer. Try a wide variety and make notes.
Save some money for extras. Remember that once you buy the bike you'll probably end up spending some money on gadgets, tools, spares, tyres, chain lube, lights, clothing, shoes. Don't completely hit the budget so that this stuff has to wait.
Get a bike that excites you. You could tick all the boxes above and completely waste your money if you're not enthusiastic about your new steed. If you love the bike you'll ride more, get fitter and go faster.

Paris Loudeac Paris

2015-08-30T20:37:00+01:00

It's not the title I had hoped to be writing, but I guess it's the most accurate one. I'd never attempted an audax of more than 600km before, but as I'd finished the three 600s I've done with some time to spare, I felt confident, perhaps too confident, that I could complete the 1230km of Paris Brest Paris.

At the start

(There's a gallery of my PBP 2015 photos here.)

It wasn't particularly that I was unprepared, although admittedly I hadn't studied the route or worked out a proper pace plan. I had however, given a lot of thought to clothing and equipment and ridden two 600s in case one of my earlier qualifiers hadn't worked out. However, my training in the weeks leading up to the event consisted only of commuting - 74km twice a week. Family responsibilities occupied much of my time. I'd rarely been away from my wife and daughter for more than a couple of days and I knew I was going to miss them, so I tried to spend as much time with them as possible. Besides, having a young child is like taking on a part time job, where you are on call 24 hours a day. Asking my wife to take on my share of that for a week is enough of a favour, without insisting that she cover all the weekends leading up to it as well.

When registering for PBP I'd chosen the 90 hours "tourist" time limit, but been a bit slow off the mark, ending up with a 1845 start time, group M. I would've preferred to start earlier, giving me a chance to build up a time buffer before I needed to sleep. However, the advantage of going off later was that I had plenty of time to take photos of the many varieties of human-powered vehicles people were riding. Vintage bikes with plunger brakes, tandems, Bromptons, hand cycles, several kinds of recumbent and lozenge-shaped velomobiles. There was equal variety in the kinds of lights and luggage riders had and how they attached them. Great fun for a bike geek like me. More than 60 countries were represented and I'm ashamed to say that I could only recognise a handful of the flags shown on each bike's frame label.

I was impatient to get going but, with only a couple of hours to my start, my stomach rebelled. I'm not sure if it was something I ate but I do have a delicate stomach at times. Anyway, I made repeated trips to the busy portaloos and, when the loo roll ran out, was very glad I'd taken Marcus Jackson-Baker's advice to pack some of my own!

Disaster averted, I joined the 300-strong queue for my start and chatted to a Canadian chap about his wooden mudguards/fenders. The atmosphere as we set off was wonderful, people cheered, clapped and yelled "Allez vous" or "Courage". I got the impression that it wasn't just other cyclists and their relatives, but local people who had come along for the show. What I didn't realise was that this support would continue at every town or village we passed through.

Progress into the countryside was swift but not frantic, smaller groups formed and broke up as people got into their rhythms or climbed at different speeds. I didn't know anyone in my group, but chatted briefly with a few. It was a fairly warm evening, so I was wearing shorts and short sleeves along with the official reflective vest which would be mandatory after dark. To my surprise, I saw a group of cyclists from India wearing full length trousers, winter jackets and helmet covers. There were others who had even covered their faces, although the temperature was around twenty degrees C. I guess it shows that people need to acclimatise to temperature as well as distance. No doubt us northern European riders would struggle to ride in 40 degree heat that felt normal to others.

Before two hours had passed, about ten riders from group N caught us up. I was tempted to join them and benefit from drafting behind faster cyclists who had set off 15 minutes after my M group, but decided against it. I've learnt that there's a comfortable pace for each individual which changes as the ride progresses. Not so fast that you're sweating and getting out of breath, but not so slow that you get bored or cool down too much. Some people use a heart rate monitor to determine what that pace is, today I was going on feel. Either way, it seems to make a ride go better if you stay in that comfortable zone.

As the light began to fade I came across an Indian rider stood by the roadside examining his bike. I called out the usual, "You ok? Have you got what you need?", to which he replied, "No, help!". One of his pedals was coming loose and I was very pleased to have the 8mm allen key to fix it for him. Riding on, we chatted for a bit before I pressed on, keen to build up some sleep time. I didn't see him again, but I hope his pedal stayed on and he had a good ride.

I now had my lights on but, as they were battery powered, I tried to conserve power by setting them to low when in groups, reserving the brightest setting for when descending. I had an Ixon IQ and Fenix LD22 on the front and a B&M toplight senso on the back. All take AA batteries as does my GPS. I normally feel like too much of an environmental criminal to use disposable batteries, but for PBP I had made an exception and used lithium ones for their long life. I hope to get dynamo lighting soon.

As I rode through a quiet village late at night I heard an unusual noise. For a moment thought there was a problem with my bike or part of my luggage was loose. Then I realised it was a man stood outside his house clapping! Children who had probably been sent to bed hours ago waved out of upstairs windows and a few had joined their parents outside to give us encouragement.

By the time I reached Mortagne-au-Perche it was after midnight and the car park was filled with bikes. I was a bit bewildered and it took me a minute or two to find a space to park. Inside I joined the queue for food, which was long, but moved quickly. I looked around anxiously for the control card-stamping desk and eventually asked another rider who explained that this stop was for food only. The first control wasn't until 220km. Perhaps I should've done a bit more planning so I'd have known things like this! After some food and chatting I found a relatively quiet spot behind a display board and got an uncomfortable half hour's sleep. I didn't set an alarm thinking I'd be flexible on timing and with the noise and hard floor oversleeping was unlikely. Somehow I managed to spend nearly three hours faffing at Mortagne, which I knew I was far from efficient. At Villains la Juhel some hours later I was a bit quicker, but still managed breakfast and another nap. Back on the road I soon had a visitation from the puncture fairy. Mildly frustrating, but soon fixed. I didn't mind too much as the weather was good and the people were friendly. Many of the towns and villages had been decorated for the event, as if they weren't picturesque enough already. Old bikes were spray painted in luminous colours or adorned with flowers. Small groups of supporters sat in garden chairs at the end of their drives calling "Courage!" or "Bonne route". Some offered water, tea, coffee or cake.

One of the things I had intended to do when I first arrived in Paris was to send postcards to my family, but I'd forgotten to do this so I popped into a village shop and quickly chose three with pictures of Normandy chateaux. Unfortunately the shop was out of stamps and the local post office was shut at ten am on a Monday! At a larger town some local supporters kindly directed me to one that was open. None of this took much time, but I could easily have saved twenty minutes had I done it in advance.

At Fougeres things were relatively quiet and service was quick. I was always around other riders on the road, but had no idea whether there were large groups ahead or behind me. I ate well and wrote the post cards as my lunch went down. Feeling good, I got back on the road with 309km done - a quarter of the ride. However, aware that I had been far too much of a tourist so far, I "bounced" the control at Tinteneac; brevet card stamped and bottles refilled in about fifteen minutes.

People's opinions of the hills varied depending on what they were used to. I found them long but not steep. I often got hot by the top of the climbs, but the descents were rarely difficult and I'd usually keep pedalling gently on the way down. I could certainly feel the distance by this stage and was going a bit slower than normal. When I reached the optional food stop at Quedillac I hastily decided to keep going to gain time for a proper rest later. It was 45km to Loudeac, which seemed quite manageable. A short while later a rider overtook me in the familiar orange and white stripes of Chippenham Wheelers. I hadn't seen any of the others from my home club since the start, so I was keen to catch up for a chat. It was Sheni who, after a slow start, was riding strongly and planned to push on to St Nicholas to sleep. It felt good to ride a bit faster and I enjoyed comparing our experiences so far. However, I soon realised that I was riding faster than felt comfortable at that stage, so I eased off. Sheni also slowed down, possibly in sympathy or because he was also feeling the distance. It was now getting dark and the last ten kilometres to Loudeac became a struggle to keep the pedals turning. My wrists, neck and shoulders started aching. I urgently needed a rest and something to eat. I usually carry a chewy bar, dried fruit or a banana on any long ride, but I had neglected to stock up on these essentials. If I'd had a five minute breather and something sugary to eat at this stage, I think I would've been fine.

But I wasn't fine. When we got to Loudeac around 9pm I was feeling achy, exhausted and couldn't contemplate food. I sat in the canteen and tried to nap, but it wasn't happening. Sheni arrived with his dinner and kindly offered me one of his drinks, but I didn't feel like it. Maybe I should've tried it, but I was afraid I wouldn't keep it down. He finished his meal and set off to do another 45km before bed. I was glad to hear later that he made it around within the time limit. After getting my card stamped, I found a bed, asking to be woken at 4am. I'm not really sure why I said 4am. I vaguely thought that this might not give me enough time to reach Carhaix before it officially closed. On the other hand, if I was giving up, why not sleep in late? I guess I was tired and indecisive.

I woke around 3, still tired but much more myself again. I calculated that, once I'd eaten breakfast and packed up I would have three hours to cover the 76km to Carhaix. That sort of speed would be no problem if I was feeling fresh, but at that moment it felt completely unrealistic. So I got myself a good breakfast and chewed over the idea of abandoning... packing... DNF... not something I've ever had to do in the last two and half years of audaxing. I was feeling better and better, but not like I could race to the next control. Even if I made it there I wouldn't be left with much time to eat and rest before racing on to the next one. I had foolishly squandered too much time early on leaving no margin for error. Then I'd made a great big error by not eating for 140km! It's one of those things that people who've done PBP warn you not to do - why hadn't I listened? Well I suppose I had listened to a lot of advice and it had been very helpful. What to pack, how to train, how to get there and where to stay - all that had gone to plan. I'd been more concerned about the logistics of getting me and the bike to the start, with the right kit, than actually doing the ride.

I returned to the control room, handed in my timing chip and abandoned the randoneé. So what now? I could carry on to Brest at my own pace, making use of the controls and resting as required, but I wanted to be sure I'd get back to Paris in time to get a good night's sleep in the hotel and for the train back to England the next morning. I could possibly get a train from Brest or Loudeac, but as I wasn't injured I liked the idea of returning under my own steam, being self-sufficient.

So, feeling at least that I had a plan, I set off into the darkness, this time heading East, following the pink and blue Paris arrows. I saw plenty of bright white LEDs heading the other way and it took me a while to realise that they were from the 84-hour group, who had started on Monday morning.

Starting a ride when it is still dark is often unpleasant and takes a bit of extra effort, especially when riding alone. However, it all seems worthwhile when the sun comes up, revealing the countryside in a new light. Everything feels fresh and hopeful. Today was no exception. The sun filtered though the mist as it hung in silky waves over the fields. After the previous day's crowds and excitement, the quiet was blissful. I took time to enjoy the peace and solitude, taking a few pictures, aware that my photographic skills wouldn't do justice to the scenes.

After a few hours, I arrived at Quedillac and decided that I could definitely manage a hobbit-style second breakfast. The place was almost deserted, less than ten people including about three volunteers. I suppose most of them were taking a rest before the next waves of cyclists returned from Brest. One of the few others there was an American lady called Laurie who had started in my group. She was still on her way West and would probably be out of time, but like me was philosophical about not completing her first 1200km audax. Her aim was to reach Brest and enjoy the ride. We sat and chatted about cycling and life and taking time to build fitness for a good half an hour - the sort of time I might not have spent sitting still if I'd still been trying to keep to my vague schedule.

Making sure I kept a banana in my jersey pocket in case of hunger, I rode East in the sunshine, enjoying the scenery but feeling slightly guilty being cheered by people unaware of my significant shortcut. At Tinteneac the volunteers tried to helpfully wave me into the control, but I rode past calling "J'ai déja abandonné". I'm not sure if that's the best way to say it in French, but it was a phrase I was to repeat many times over the next few days and people seemed to understand. At some point on my return journey, I'm not sure where, near the top of a hill I spotted a very well-stocked table at the roadside. Home-made cakes, biscuits and, oh joy, crepes! In broken and breathless French I fessed up and explained my situation to the three children attending the food. It seemed I was still allowed to partake, so I helped myself to a crepe au sucre and dropped some coins into the donation bowl. Such a spread would've cost a fair bit to make. I did my best to make conversation with the kids, but to be honest I struggled. After I left I spent much time rehearsing French phrases as I rode in the hope I wouldn't stumble over my words so much next time.

I arrived in the beautiful town of Villaine La Juhel late afternoon having covered about 230km that day. I wasn't really sure what to do next. The basic eat-sleep-ride pattern was disrupted, so I just stood there, taking it in. I was soon awakened from my reverie as a volunteer blew his whistle; there were more riders coming in and they needed to clear the thoroughfare. I parked the bike and headed for some food. At this relatively quiet time volunteers of all ages were taking the chance to use the catering facilities. Someone spotted me as I wandered in and called "cycliste!". Five people leapt aside and ushered me to the front of the queue. I was getting tired of explaining that I was really in no rush, so I sheepishly thanked them and enjoyed a good meal. After that I had a shower and slept for ten, yes ten, hours. The makeshift dormitory was a school music room, judging by the records on the walls, but it had thick mats and I had it to myself. I think some others came to catch a nap during the night, but by the time I woke up I was alone again.

Getting up I felt good and I only had a 90km day planned which would leave a 141km ride back to Paris for Thursday morning. As I rode I chatted to a few riders who were, in effect, 330km ahead of me. I found that how I felt about abandoning the randonneé changed depending on who I was speaking to. Those whose attitude was most relaxed, "Well, it's still a nice ride" made me feel comfortable about it, but other who had an "Argh, what a shame!" response made me feel more disappointed in myself. Curious, and something I'll bear in mind next time I meet someone else who has packed. By lunchtime I was most of the way through the day's riding, so in Mamers I found an Italian cafe and had a large pizza and dessert. More than I'd usually eat in one go on a ride, but I figured I could ride gently if I had any digestive trouble. The town had an attractive square, but I wasn't quite sure I liked the atmosphere away from the main PBP route. It was generally quiet, but I noticed groups of youths hanging around, apparently with not enough to do. Perhaps I was getting paranoid travelling alone, but I find it harder to read situations in foreign countries, even when I can speak a bit of the language.

So I got back on the road and before long I was back at Mortagne, where I took some time to watch the riders arriving, applaud and take photos. I caught up with some other club mates who were tired, but doing well and hoping to reach Paris that night. After a lazy, but sociable afternoon I went to find a bed. I was amused when the volunteer described me as "Ce petit jeune" - "this little youngster", but explained that although I was 36, I probably look young due to being slight of build and having had much more sleep than everyone else.

The thin mat on the floor was not particularly comfortable and I appreciated having ear plugs and a buff to cover my eyes - I think someone took a flash photo at some point. Still, I got enough sleep to set me up for another pre-dawn start.

The next morning when I got on the road the main thing I noticed was that I was overtaking everyone. I wasn't trying to, I was just going at what seemed like a comfortable pace. Of course it wasn't really fair as I had done a shorter distance and probably had much more sleep, but I was surprised how much difference it made. The dawn was not as dramatic as the last time. The sky remained a dark grey and looked rather threatening. I chap called Alex introduced himself and asked if I minded if he chat to me to keep himself awake. I was happy to listen and learnt a few things about the Ukraine - his home country. I wasn't aware that their flag - blue at the top and yellow underneath - represented the sky and wheat, the latter being the country's major export. We rode together for a couple of hours, sharing a love of Campagnolo ergonomics and home-brew bicycle hacks. I admired his Garmin mount made from an old bottle cage as we stopped for free roadside soup - "Je vous remerci les Francais!".

At one point we were passed by Steve Abraham clocking up the miles for his one-year time-trial. I was delighted that he looked around and gave me a big grin - he must've recognised my YACF forum name plate.

Alex and I parted ways at Dreux. He was meeting up with his team mates and I wanted to grab a quick bite to eat without cooling down too much. Having been really lucky with the weather, it was now raining persistently, so I didn't want to hang around. I think it was as I was leaving Dreux, climbing a small hill, that I spotted a van wanting to turn into a side road across my path. In the UK, drivers can get a bit impatient in this situation, but he waited calmly. When I got out of the saddle to clear the road more quickly, he thumped his chest with his fist and mouthed the word "Courage!". I was grinning for a while after that.

After another pleasant chat, this time with a British recumbent rider I was soon rolling along familiar roads into the outskirts of Paris. I was feeling strong and still overtaking people who had done the full distance with hardly a chance to close their eyes. Again I felt a bit guilty and got a couple of grumpy looks. I decided not to try and strike up any conversations.

Thanks Rip Xvor for this photo!

The mood at the finish was one of muted elation and relief. I left my bike in the parking lot, congratulated a couple of friends who had made the full distance and headed into the velodrome for paperwork and pasta. I couldn't find anyone I knew, so ended up sitting with a couple of older French men who'd just finished the ride. I was pleased that by this time I'd remembered how to speak French and one of them spoke English to a similar standard, so we took it in turns. It was a great way to learn and I could've chatted with them all day. No doubt I made plenty of blunders, but also managed a few jokes. It was the first PBP for Jean-Claude, at age 68. His younger friend joked that it had been easy for him to train, being retired. I explained my failed attempt and enjoyable journey back, how kind the French public had been and the wonderful scenery that made a pleasant change from England. In the months leading up to Paris Brest Paris, all through the qualifying brevets, I had felt oddly unenthusiastic about it, but now I understood why it is so special. Like many I thought it would be a one-off, but even if I had completed the randoneé successfully, I think I'd still want to ride it again. It may be a big commitment, but if circumstances allow I do hope to come back in 2019 and do it properly.

Some other riders took much better photos than me, and here are some of them on various themes. Sleep 80-hour group Strava Glamorous glossy-photos view US-rider's amazing photos

Paris Brest Paris 2015 Photos

2015-08-30T20:21:00+01:00

Photos to be shared when I've worked out the best way to do that. In the mean time here is my write up.

The road is not all rage

2015-08-05T19:26:00+01:00

Recently I've seen quite a few videos of angry exchanges between motorists and cyclists. I don't imagine that this is because there are now more such arguments than before, but because more cyclists now carry video cameras. I'm not going to link to them because I don't actually think they're a good thing. I'll explain that in a bit.

The pattern is usually something like this:-

The driver unthinkingly makes a dangerous manoeuvre putting the cyclist at risk, or yells abuse at a cyclist for being on the road and holding them up for a few seconds.

Feeling upset about being either unfairly maligned or put at unnecessary risk, the cyclist catches the car at the next junction and explains their complaint. In the videos I've seen they've been pretty calm about doing so considering the adrenaline rush involved. Perhaps those who lose their cool don't post the videos.

The driver is generally not apologetic or willing to listen. Sometimes the argument escalates into a ridiculous spectacle.

Often these problems stem from misconceptions about road positioning or how the highway code recommends passing cyclists safely. I'm not saying that the cyclists are never in the wrong, but those who break the law by jumping red lights or riding inconsiderately on the pavement don't tend to post videos of themselves doing so.

Whatever the right or wrongs of different cases, I don't think posting videos like this helps people to share the road. I can see the sense in carrying a camera to collect evidence in case of an incident, although the police response to these is still quite variable. But just posting the worst cases online gives the impression that drivers and cyclists are "at war", creating a "them and us" feeling that only makes things worse. You can see this in the polarised comments on the videos. Though, to be fair, comments on news articles and YouTube videos are not noted for their calm, tolerant tone.

The reality which never makes it to YouTube videos and newspaper headlines is that most drivers and cyclists are polite and considerate to each other. In the last year I chased down a woman who had failed to see me at a mini roundabout, forcing me to emergency stop to avoid a crash. She was apologetic. I can't honestly say if my experience is representative, as these incidents are thankfully rare. However, from the dramatic videos online, you could be forgiven for thinking that the roads are a battlefield.

What I don't want is for people to think that cycling is dangerous or full of conflict when the reality is that, on average, cyclists live longer than non-cyclists, take fewer sick days and arrive at work in a better mood.

There's a risk that this unfairly-negative publicity becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. On the basis of a few viral videos, cyclists might feel that drivers don't care for their safety and either get paranoid and militant or stop cycling entirely. To improve safety we need more cyclists on the roads, so drivers should expect to see bikes at every junction. Countries with more journeys made by bike have fewer injuries and deaths [PDF] per mile travelled.

Similarly, it seems that drivers watching these videos, far from gaining any sympathy for vulnerable road users, may come away with the impression of cyclists at their worst - angry, arrogant people with no concern for how they inconvenience others. That's not going to encourage them to overtake carefully.

Whenever we communicate with people, it helps if we understand the other person's point of view and feelings on the matter even... no, especially if we happen to think they're seriously misguided.

The fact is that cyclists are legally allowed on any road apart from a motorway, to ride without a helmet and are advised in some situations to "take the lane", riding well out from the kerb. These rules aren't much use if drivers aren't aware of them and, for some reason, no one thought to tell them. Education would probably be better done by police or organisations with some authority than in a heated roadside argument.

A fellow cyclist once suggested that if you're in any doubt about what people yelling at you are saying, assume they must be friendly and respond with a big wave and smile.

EDIT: If you're a careful driver who'd like to learn how to be safe around cyclists, you should probably read this excellent article from the CTC or watch this short video.

How to tell when blueberries are ripe

2015-08-02T12:21:00+01:00

Maybe everyone else knows this, but I recently worked out when to pick blueberries. As with a lot of fruit, they come off the bush easily when they're ripe. If you have to pull hard to get the fruit off the stalk, it's a sign you should leave it for a few days. With blueberries, they are so small and numerous that gently pulling at each one to see if it's ripe is quite time consuming and you can end up damaging the bush in the process. I think I've worked out a way to tell just by looking. The berry in the top-left has a darkening stalk where it attaches to the fruit, showing it is nearly ripe. At first I thought the colour of the berry was important, and it is, up to a point. The berries aren't ready when they're green or red in colour, but even the blue ones often have some way to go. What seems to count is the colour of the stalk where it joins the berry. As you can see in the photo above, the stalk will go very dark blue at the berry end, indicating that it's ready to come off. I've now learnt that there's little point in trying to wrestle them off the bush until the stalk has gone dark.

Explaining technical debt - an analogy

2015-07-23T07:34:00+01:00

In software engineering, "technical debt" is a feature of an application's code which makes future changes more difficult.

Technical debt takes many forms, but it can be as simple as methods with misleading names, outdated documentation or large sections of repeated code.

A non-technical description of technical debt

As an analogy, imagine that an indicator bulb fails on the dashboard of your car. You buy a new bulb and, pop out to replace the old one. Your spouse warns you that dinner will be ready soon. "Don't worry," you say, "it's only a ten minute job".

When you climb into the driver's seat however, you can't find any way to open the dashboard; in fact there are no screws visible at all. So you open the bonnet and look for suitable screws there. The screen wash reservoir is in the way, so you carefully remove that, but due to the way the pipe is connected, this means spilling all the washer fluid on the ground. Your spouse calls that your dinner is on the table. "Nearly there." you reply. Now you can see some screws which look like they might release the dashboard, but they're completely inaccessible. The only way is to get the engine out, so you replace the screen wash reservoir and drive the car around to a friend who has an engine-lifting winch. Luckily it comes out without any nasty surprises and you undo a screw labelled "DB release" - simple!

Inside the car however, the dashboard is not at all released and you notice one of the wipers is hanging loose. You re-attach the wiper and locate the correct screws. Finally, the dashboard opens! But it's not over yet - the bulb you bought, after consulting the car manual, doesn't fit. As the car is still in bits you take a taxi to the car dealer who supplies you with the correct bulb. When you vent your frustrations, he explains that the bulb you had was for an earlier model and when the new car was designed they weren't given time to update the manual. Apparently the dashboard is made of a single piece of solid plastic because that makes manufacturing easier and cheaper. No one ever checked the screws were labelled correctly as the release date was brought forward to compete with a car from another manufacturer. Maintenance costs are usually down to the end user and rarely feature in reviews...

So eventually you get the bulb replaced, the engine back in and take the car home. By now your dinner is not just cold, it has things growing on it and your spouse is threatening divorce.

A stitch in time saves nine

The car in my analogy has terrible technical debt. The "interest payments" needed to modify or fix it are huge. But in other ways it might still be a good car - good handling and fuel consumption and it's black, everyone likes black. To anyone who has never opened the bonnet, the car is fine - it works, so what's the problem?

If the occasional hassle of changing a bulb doesn't seem like a big deal, bear in mind that software is changed a lot. No sooner is an application released than new features are needed, bugs may be discovered or perhaps an external system changes that requires the application to change to keep up. A code file is created once, but might be changed hundreds or thousands of times over the lifetime of the application. Most of these changes are not anticipated from the outset and the cost of making them can be dramatically affected by how well-designed, well-documented and testable the code is.

Sometimes code is made well in the first place - that takes an upfront investment of time. Sometimes existing code is improved to be more maintainable - the time to improve it is like paying off the debt. In either case the investment saves time down the line. Software maintenance can account for more than 60% of total development effort. Unless the codebase is destined to be retired soon, the savings from investing in maintainable code are significant.

There is more on writing maintainable software here. For a deeper look at technical debt, read Martin Fowler's piece.

Everesting Bowden Hill

2015-06-26T22:23:00+01:00

As you've probably heard, I made it up Bowden Hill 73 times, becoming the first person to Everest it and raised some £821.79 (at the time of writing) for Wheels for Wellbeing, a charity who make it possible for disabled people to go cycling and enjoy the many benefits it brings.

Many thanks to all who donated, including the sometimes rather generous anonymous donors.

Approaching the mountain

Thinking back only a few years, I don't think I could've done this. I did a fair bit of touring cycling in my twenties, but all in fairly short hops and at a very relaxed pace. I remember around 2010 riding 50km (30 miles) and feeling really wobbly in the legs the next day. Over the years I extended my rides, tried a few Sportives, but found them a bit commercial, competitive and sometimes not so friendly. Then I got into audax, with distances starting at 50km, working up through 200km (125 mile) events to 300, 400 and 600km.

Starting the fifth climb.

So I don't think what I did was particularly special or heroic. Yes, I put a lot of effort into preparing for it and I'll grant that I probably have a better-than-average natural fitness level and training response to exercise. But I'd guess that with training and motivation a lot of casual cyclists could "Everest" a climb like Bowden Hill. It wasn't exactly easy, but there was always plenty of oxygen, no walls of ice and the temperature was never below 15 C.

To be honest, while I find badges and achievements fun, I'm not particularly comfortable with the grandiose language on the official Everesting website. Everyone should be applauded for their own challenges, which will be at the edge of their ability and the obstacles to them may be physical, mental or just plain lack of time. I'm at least as impressed by the efforts of disabled people to take on challenges that put many supposedly more able people to shame. That's what inspired me about Wheels for Wellbeing, along with the way they promote the positive feedback of confidence and wellbeing that are both causes and effects of cycling.

I've learnt from reading audax ride reports that the most epic and humourous stories often come from those at the back of the field, perhaps lacking fitness, suffering multiple mechanical failures, finishing with a minute to spare or having to give up and discover that the rural trains aren't running for another 6 hours. I'm also well aware that however tough you think you are, there's always someone tougher out there. How about Ray Brown who's done 6 "Everestings" this month in the heat of Georgia, USA and still has another 2 planned before the end of the month. Or Steve Abraham who's attempting to break the year record which has stood since 1939, by riding more than 206 miles a day. Then there's Hector Picard, who, despite having no hands, is a long-distance cyclist and pretty good at changing a bike tyre. I hear a rumour he's also doing Paris-Brest-Paris this year, so I hope to see him and give him a big "Chapeau!".

Just keep the pedals turning

About 40 climbs done. (Thanks Brian Atkins for the photo)

As is often the case before a big ride, I slept intermittently and woke early, so I started at 5.20am, ten minutes ahead of schedule.

As I was climbing I was thinking a few things to pace myself. Things like, "All you need to do this is a low gear and a lot of patience." and "Take your time and the hill will come to you". [I was passed by the occasional delivery van and a group of cyclists out early who I think had no idea what I was doing, but otherwise the roads were quiet and the air was still. I climbed steadily, but easily making my five-climbs-an-hour target. When I got to the steep part, I'd make the most of the lack of traffic and tack back and forth across the smoothest strip of tarmac. This was a bit slower than going straight up, but reduced the effective gradient and the effort required, so should make me quicker overall. My lowest gear was 34F x 29R. If I had a triple chainset this probably wouldn't have been necessary. Every few climbs I'd pick a slightly higher gear and climb the steep part standing up. This used different muscles. They say a change is as good as a rest. Well, almost.]

When I'd done about 15 climbs, I noticed a cyclist in red also repeating the hill. When I eventually caught up, he introduced himself as Tony Hull. Tony is the AUK DIY organiser for the South West and is unfailingly helpful and supportive to those planning a new route. I'd only ever contacted him via email, so it was nice to finally put a face to the name. Before long, some chaps from my local club, the Chippenham Wheelers arrived and chatted as we did a couple of laps together. Later I was cheered on by a few members of Malmesbury Clarion CC although didn't get to chat as they were climbing as I was descending.

I stopped briefly every five or ten climbs to refill on water and have a quick bite of flapjack or banana. Partly to pass the time, I was regularly calculating my rate of climbing and how many I'd have done by lunch at 12:30. As I'm a bit slow with maths, this kept me pretty well occupied. Before I knew it I was passing my previous maximum - the 22-climbs mark and into the unknown. The GPS was counting the total metres climbed, but I was also trying to remember how many actual climbs I'd done. I didn't have a board to check them off on, just a number in my head. One daydream I came up with was trying to remember what I was doing at the age of the climb I was currently on, but apart from getting married at 28 I can't really place my memories in time very well. Anyway, by lunchtime I'd reached 36 climbs - my current age - so that game had to stop!

Just over half way!

When I stopped for lunch I was pleased to be just over halfway through the climb - the GPS read 4441m. I photographed it for the fifth time that day - just in case it failed later. I was a bit surprised that I felt considerably better than after my training rides when I'd only completed 22 climbs. Perhaps the training had paid off or perhaps I was pacing myself better today. I was delighted when my parents and sister turned up, followed by my daughter, carried up the steepest part of the hill on the back of my wife Erica's bike. Bringing her spare clothes, travel potty and newly-acquired kite, meant it was no mean feat!

We were also joined by some friends from Hertfordshire who were visiting family nearby. The staff at the Rising Sun had my lunch ready for me and I enjoyed the nut roast burger and sandwich with chips and a large glass of milk. I sat digesting and chatting for a while as the others ordered and ate. I was still a bit hungry, but knew I needed to start riding again soon, so decided to nibble something small later. Although I was in the pub for an hour and a quarter, longer than I usually stop for on a long ride, I still felt uncomfortably full getting back on the bike and was climbing a bit slower than before the meal. However, I got some great support from family and friends the next few times I passed the pub. They'd even made a banner to wave with a drawing of a mountain. Next I was cheered on by some more audaxing friends - Jo had ridden over from Great Malvern to say hi, and Brian got some of the best photos from the day.

By three o'clock I was on my own again, with only the GPS for company. The good news was that lunch had gone down and I felt I was climbing strongly again. I wasn't going quite as fast as in the morning, but finishing before sunset was still possible - this was almost the longest day of the year!

There was a problem, however. The numbers on the GPS weren't quite adding up to what I had expected. The GPS and the Strava cycling website do have slightly different ways of measuring altitude, but I wasn't willing to risk being under 8848 by even a metre! The 72 climbs I had expected was starting to look like 73... maybe more.

Descending the flatter bottom section, keeping the legs spinning gently. (thanks Brian Atkins for the photo)

The afternoon was warming up. I now had a slight tailwind on the climbs - very useful on the lower section and an occasional refreshing gust as I passed St Anne's Church near the top. It did slow me down on the descents, but only by seconds and this was definitely my preferred wind direction. In spite of the wind, it was still very warm, especially on the ascent when the wind-chill factor disappeared and effort increased. I was sweating a lot now, so I carried more water, added hydration tablets and sipped a bit more regularly.

By 6pm I'd done 57 climbs. The GPS showed 6987m climbed and 219km distance. I was getting weary and felt I still had a long way to go. It didn't help that I'd been alone now for about four hours and the picturesque village and countryside now seemed dull. All the long rides I've done have had a bit of a low point, so I was expecting this. I had about sixteen more climbs to do. That meant another three hours - if I could keep up my intended pace, which was slipping a bit. At least it had cooled down. I had another small banana and set off again at what felt like a snail's pace. I'd enjoyed much of the morning, but the next two hours were a tedious grind, slowly ticking off each climb, all the time wondering how many I'd need to make the altitude add up.

However, by the time I reached about 67 climbs I felt better. I had been going steadily and the end was now in sight. The owner of The Rising Sun stood outside the pub and yelled, "Go on, you can do it!". Maybe I'd have to do 73 climbs, but even if it was 75, I'd be finished before 10pm. No problem. I think I even sped up a bit, getting out of the saddle for a few more climbs. Before I knew it, I was rolling into the pub car park around half 9, having done 73 and a half climbs, with the GPS showing 8911m. I texted Erica, thanked the pub staff and packed the bike into the car for a short drive home to a wonderful dinner.

I spent the next couple of days eating and sleeping more than usual. My knees ached on the Sunday, but otherwise I suffered no ill effects. I'd had a huge adventure, a challenge and raised more than I had hoped for a great cause.

Thanks again to everyone who supported me.

Things I learned

This bit might be useful if you're thinking about Everesting a hill, although what seemed to work for me may not work for you, and a sample size of one is hardly significant! However, if you do go for it, let me know. If you live nearby, I may even come out and support you.

The training (hill repeats and hilly audaxes) really seemed to improve my ability to go further in more comfort. I didn't get any faster, but I felt better and more able to carry on for longer distances. I did maybe 2 or 3 training rides a week in the three months leading up to the event.
In the past my lower back has sometimes ached from climbing out of the saddle. I'm not sure if it was the reason it felt OK on the day, but I did a couple of weeks of core strength exercises, specifically the plank and side planks, every night. I found these really hard at first, but they got easier.
Practice and audaxing has taught me how much or how little I can get away with eating on a hard ride. Little and often seems to work for me. Too much too quickly and I risk heartburn or indigestion. This is especially true when climbing as there's a greater minimum effort required for the steeper bits, you can't simply cruise along until lunch goes down. My limited intake generally means I'll burn some fat and spend a few days eating well to make up the difference. Some people seem to be able to throw down the food and simply carry on.
Having the car in the pub car park worked well. Luckily I didn't need any spares, but I had tubes, tyre and chain plus all the tools I could think of just in case. Stopping on the way up for supplies made sense as I didn't lose momentum and the second part of the climb felt easier after a brief stop.
I'd guess that not all hills are equal when it comes to Everesting. Some are so steep that the legs would soon be exhausted, some are so long and shallow that the total distance becomes as much of a challenge as the climbing. A long hill would mean getting really hot on the way up and/or really cold on the way down. A really short hill would mean a lot of time spent turning the bike around and perhaps waiting for a gap in the traffic to do so. Bowden Hill was arguably one of the easier hills to Everest as there's a good chance of a Westerly tailwind on the lower, flatter part of the climb, and it takes me about 8 mins to climb and 2 mins to descend so there's a regular cooldown. The total distance (280km) can realistically be done in a (long) day. Even the steepest part is only 12%, which is manageable for most people with low gears and some practice. It has fairly easy places to turn at the top and bottom and two pubs for refreshments.
Compared to audaxing, Everesting was, for me, a bit harder than a hilly 300km ride. No doubt it helps that I'm lightweight and like climbing hills (and trained for it recently), but I was more tired out by a 400km ride with half as much climbing. That may be partly due to getting more sleep after the Everesting.

Preparing for the climb

2015-06-16T20:24:00+01:00

At the time of writing, I may or may not be shaving my legs... here's the donation link!

Plan for the day

Get up at 4.30am
Have a light breakfast
Drive packed car to pub car park
Ride down to bottom of the hill
Restart GPS, aiming to start at 5:30am
Do about five climb/descents per hour
Every two or three hours, rest, snack and refill drink for about ten mins
At 12.30 stop for lunch for about 30 or 40 mins
Aim to finish around 9pm

Training

Over the past two months I've climbed Bowden hill more than 60 times and done some long hilly rides in Wales, clocking up about 25000m of climbing. I've learnt what seems to work for me in terms of how fast to go, what to eat and when to rest. The plan above might not be right for everyone, but it seems sensible, based on my experience. That said, I won't hesitate to tear it up on the day if I feel I need more rest or more food or whatever. The total distance is about 280km, so I'm hoping it will feel like an especially tough 300km ride - something I've done several times in the last couple of years, although never with more than 5000m of climbing. I think I'll need to be careful to limit my peak effort of the short, steep part of the climb to avoid tiring my legs more than necessary. I mostly climb seated and in my lowest gear, but it seems to help to occasionally get out of the saddle if only to use some different muscles for a while.

The bike

I'll be using my only real road bike, a custom titanium "audax" designed by Justin Burls. Stripped down to the essentials it weighs under 9kg, not super light, but probably lighter than average. I've removed the saddle bag rack, mudguards, one bottle cage and swapped to a slightly lighter and more waterproof saddle. All that probably saves about 1.5kg. I'm not normally a weight weanie, favouring comfort and reliability, but in this case the climbing is extreme and this is where weight makes the difference. Cleaned the chain and chainrings I also won't be carrying any tools, clothes or spares, and only the minimum amount of water. Spares and refills will be available in my car, parked on the hill and never more than a mile away. In total, I'll be some 5kg lighter than on a typical audax ride. However, as a percentage of all-up weight (me + bike + kit), 5kg isn't much, so I won't be expecting much difference, just for it to be a fraction easier on the steep part.

On the day

I'll have a lot of snacks and extra water in the car. I'll stop to pick up the minimum half or third of a bottle of water and maybe a banana. Hopefully this will only take a minute and I can nibble and sip on the flatter parts of the climb. Until I take a proper break I'd rather ride slowly for a bit than stop entirely. If friends and family could pass me bananas and fresh water bottles (no more than half filled), that would be much appreciated. The round trip of climb/descent should take about ten minutes and I'll only stop at the pub on the climbs. So if I've just passed going uphill, I'll probably be climbing past again in another ten minutes.

Bowden Hill Climb

2015-05-31T19:54:00+01:00

Bowden Hill lies to the East of Lacock, beyond the abbey famed for several films and past the low-lying fields. After crossing the river, amongst some small houses, the climb begins.

The road rises gently past Bewley Common, favoured by horse riders and dog walkers. At first, all that can be seen ahead is an occasional dwelling place and the many trees. Those distracted by the thatched cottages either side may not spot the rising road ahead and be caught unawares as it momentarily flattens out before rearing up to around 1 in 7.

The size of the hill is hidden behind a mature horse chestnut in long grass, but around the sharp bend it looms into view. The gradient doesn't let up through a tight turn back to the right. On the next straight section, the road is not quite so steep, but the Rising Sun pub on the right beckons temptingly to tired legs.

In a few tens of metres the hardest part is over and as you pass the 19th century Church of St. Anne the climb eases and you're treated to views across the Wiltshire countryside towards Bradford on Avon and given a moment to catch your breath. However, it's not quite time to relax as around the next corner the road rises a little more, passing through an arch of trees before reaching the gates of Spye park.

Bryan Chapman Memorial 2015

2015-05-25T20:59:00+01:00

Well that was an adventure!

Many thanks to Ritchie and the legion of helpers, not just for all the food and patience, but for keeping and returning the kit I sleepily forgot after the BC!

I opted for lots of shortcuts from the recommended route, even though most of them meant more climbing. On my own through Devauden and Raglan, after which I met others and followed a friendly Dulwich chap through Abergavenny. Take the scenic quieter road through Boughrood? Boughrood not to! Very impressed by the service at the Honey Cafe. They were ready for us! Took the left at Rhyader, long slow climb through the Elan valley, legs starting to ache now, but loved every minute of it. Zipping down the other side I heard a flap-flap-flap and thought "Oh what bit of my clothing/bag has got loose now?" I turned around to check and saw I was being followed by a helicopter. Ah. Loved the road and green valleys through to Devil's bridge, the climb was a bit of a grind, but what a wonderful road surface. After Devil's bridge another wonderful view into the valley to the right, before plunging into it and back onto the main route towards Aberystwyth. Immediately beset by cars, about 1/3rd of them passing way too close, one bloke yelled something out of the window. I couldn't make it out, but I guess it wasn't "Allez-vous". I forgot to do Bairdy's big smile and wave, but will try that next time.

At Tre'r ddol, another helping of beans with a veggie breakfast, possibly not a good idea as my stomach got grumpy. Went slowly for a bit and it seemed to settle down. Kept seeing the same faces, but was basically doing my own thing and riding alone most of the time. Got hot and bothered on the climb after Tal-y-llyn (another great view), encouraged to see I wasn't the only one. The traffic was queuing behind us with a lorry struggling to overtake. Gave them a wave of thanks for their patience. At King's I nearly missed the sharp little left turning, then was in the wrong gear for the steep climb to the YHA (yes, it's my first time there). I really needed some food, but my stomach was still negotiating with the cooked breakfast from 2 hours earlier, so I only managed the soup and a little cake. Nice to chat with a couple of people as much of the day had been lonely.

Set off again on my own taking the shortest possible route to Menai. I know the coast route is beautiful, but I was in a just-get-round mood and besides I'll be seeing it again in 3 weeks on another 600. So I slowly ground up the A470 thinking about how great it would be to come down it later. At Maentwrog I took another hilly shortcut through Rhyd. That was the 1:6 hill, but not for long. Soon I was passing deep little wooded valleys and could hear and sometimes see streams running below. Later I rode alongside a secluded little lake surrounded by trees. I had completely missed this a year ago when I'd ridden this road as it was in the dark. Feeling lazy, I took the left at Beddgelert. It may not have been Pen-y-pass, but the scenery was still stunning. By now I was feeling really rough, it was partly the relentless climb, plus it felt like the food I'd eaten earlier hadn't really got through, so was hindering me instead of helping. The last bit to Menai bridge was a bit of a slog, then after a brief stretch on a shady cycle path I took a wrong turn and plunged down to the harbour. Nice to look at, but I had to climb back up for the bridge. Hospitality at Menai was wonderful and the rice pudding went down nicely. I often think I might bounce a control, but when I get there I often stay for a bit.

Happily I met up with a chap from Swindon called Allan and we decided to ride back to King's together. A bit of company in the dark seemed like a good thing. I was chilly when I set off so had trouble keeping up until I warmed up. We hugely enjoyed the descent back into Beddgelert which Allan called "the best descent of the day" and there was some competition! He was also keen to do my hilly detour through Rhyd and leapt out of the saddle as the hill started. I warned him that it went on for at least ten minutes. We relaxed a little and got to the top still able to chat and saw the lights of (probably) Porthmadog to our right. I took the lead for the descent, both of us again grateful for my cheap but bright cree headlight. We were starting to get cold now, but knew there was, yes, another long climb ahead, so agreed to stop at the top to put on jackets, shoe covers, etc. That turned out to be the right plan. As we stopped in a layby a police car pulled up and asked us the now-familiar "What's with all the cyclists?" question. He seemed happy enough with our response, scribbled Audax on his hand and we went on our way. In spite of all the extra layers we did get a bit cold. But it was gentle enough to keep pedalling which helped. Back at King's we were ready for the turning and in the right gear this time. The climb seemed particularly cruel at that time of night with nearly 400km done, but we made it. I tried a bit more food but didn't really feel hungry. What felt really good was a proper shower after which I was ready for bed.

However, when our room was woken up only 1.5 hours later we were all pretty grumpy, having been hoping for 3 hours. At first we thought it was raining, but it was actually just the babbling of the stream nearby. I forced down a little toast and cereal and sat around until it got light, hoping I'd feel refreshed at some point. After a couple of hours of nibbling I persuaded myself to get moving. It wasn't raining much, the sky wasn't black anymore and James Blair was just setting off. We chatted for a bit, then as the rain got real I stopped to put my jacket on. I slightly regret not using the waterproof trousers I carried all the way around, but I was concerned about overheating on the upcoming climb and I didn't want to stop again in a few moments to take them off. Funny how you end up in these silly dilemmas about apparently-trivial clothing choices.

We were caught by Allan and there was much to-and-fro on the climbs and due to the aforementioned clothing faff. The highlight of this section for me was the descent after Cross Foxes. Steep at first, but what a long run-out. Amazing. I was a bit cautious in the wet, but it was great fun! I took my next little detour through Pandy. The first bit was steep-up-and-down gravel as promised, but when I got to the top it was wide, smooth and straight for several miles and I soon picked up speed. I'd lost touch with the others by this point, so I'm not sure whether it was faster, but I was just happy to get off the main road. The rest of the way to Aberhafesp seemed to drag on and I was feeling both hungry and full at the same time. Service at the school was friendly and had some food. Stomach was now in a really bad mood, so I decided to wait for a bit. Resting my head on the table I fell asleep. Not sure how long for, but when I looked up there were different people around me. I noticed rougher road surfaces as we re-entered England and arrived at Weobley, where I bought some anti-acid tablets and an ice-cream. Much better! The painful burps stopped and within an hour my energy had come back. It was as if I'd finally digested the last 24 hours-worth of food. I'm pretty sure that's not possible, but that's how it felt. Maybe it helped that the sun was coming out and the weather just kept getting better.

The climb from Dolfor was long and tedious, but very much worth it for the tailwind across the top and another glorious descent, minding the hairpins, carrying the momentum pretty much all the way into Knighton. I'd been doubting my last shortcut, up Lanshay lane to the Spaceguard Centre, but I was now in a much better mood, so went for it. I sweated quite a bit and maybe it slowed me down more than going around, but I'm glad I did it.

From then things got better. Sure, my back side was sore and my legs were a bit achy, but I felt somehow more energetic than before. I didn't exactly fly up the Llancloudy climb, but I was a minute and a half quicker than a 200km ride last year. But then there was Tintern. Probably no harder than previous climbs, but I'd kind of had enough and just wanted to get back. A nice descent, but by now I'd been spoiled by Wales. On the outskirts of Chepstow I misread the routesheet and made, I think, my only wrong turn. I should've known better as I did roughly know where I was going. Not much time lost, but was a bit annoyed at myself.

Lovely relaxing in the garden of the Bulwark centre at the end. Thanks again to the organisers and many helpers and to all who kept me company along the way. A day later I'm just about starting to look forward to the next ride...

Brevet Cymru 400km

2015-05-04T19:39:00+01:00

I did this ride last year as my first 400. This year it was my 400 PBP qualifier, so if I really want to do PBP, then I needed to complete it.

The forecast was for wind and rain in the evening and through the night, so many people decided to DNS. Having completed it, I don't blame them one bit. That's not to say I disliked it - much of it was very enjoyable, but parts were very very tough. In particular I must thank Mark and Louise Rigby and their helpers for organising the event, which must be a lot of work with such a large turnout.

Don't get cold

My first mistake was to get cold between Monmouth and Hay. It was colder than I'd expected and there was light drizzle. While my jacket did a good job, my sealskins socks were not warm enough and I also lost touch with my fingers. I should've brought overshoes, but I'd already crammed my saddle bag with everything I could think of. Nah, I could've squeezed them in. However it was nice chatting to Jo (rabbit) about life and riding and not doing PBP (I'm 70% yes at the time of writing).

But the cold. I'm not a big guy and I find cold saps my strength more than anything else, so after the descent into Hay I was shivering a bit. At least it had stopped raining. Not wanting to spend time in an overcrowded cafe I pushed on to Llandovery, thinking that "going a bit faster" would warm me up. I did warm up, but after 30km or so I was really flagging, partly from having got cold, partly just by going too fast. I find most rides have a "low" point and this was definitely it. I chatted to a few friendly riders, but they were far too jolly and chatty for my mood and riding a bit too fast for me. I probably came across as surly. Sorry about that.

I spent two hours fantasising about what I would eat in the West End cafe. This passed the time, but I was getting slower and slower, counting down the kms until the downhill into Llandovery. Eventually I stopped and had my emergency yucky caffeine gel. Somebody once told me that your emergency food should be something you don't actually like or you'll eat it too soon. I don't usually have any caffeine, so it did seem to pick me up, but I had hoped to save it for later. Anyway, it got me over the hill and in Llandovery I got a veggie breakfast and tried to warm up. I foolishly sat by the door so my bare lower legs were constantly feeling the draught. Nevertheless I did warm up.

Eat, but not too much

I'm not someone who can throw down buckets of food and jump back on the bike. I've had some really unpleasant rides after eating nothing more than beans on toast and a cake, so I was careful to fully digest this large meal before leaving. As he left, Jamie (Vorsprung) advised me to ride for 20 mins slowly enough to breathe only through my nose. OK, I could try that.

When I did this ride last year I found a small shortcut saving 2.6km, with a little bit more climbing which had worked out pretty well. It involves taking the first right off the A40 after crossing the river, left at T, then through Porthyrhyd to rejoin the main route on the A482. From the Strava fly-bys, I couldn't see anyone else who took this option, but it worked out for me and I seemed to catch Jamie fairly quickly. From there it was some steady climbing and amazing wind-assisted downhills. The turn towards Tregaron provided a taster of the wind to come, but it was mostly from the side. I had a bag of crisps and a large brownie at the pub, which seemed to be sufficient to keep me going without inciting a mutiny from my stomach. I also kept taking small sips of water instead of my typical gulps. Maybe that helped or maybe I was just lucky.

I rode steadily on the short but hilly section to New Quay, catching up with James Blair and having a good chat about bikes, routes and riding. He even trusted me enough to follow me on an impromptu detour. On the way into New Quay we judged that the wet forecast might've put off the holiday traffic, making the B road a pleasant option. We crossed the A487 near Llannarth and followed a cycle route sign downhill into town. The only downside was pausing for traffic lighted roadworks then trying to rush uphill through the single carriageway section before the lights changed and the oncoming traffic, erm, came on. James related an even worse case when he'd been riding in Italy, passing roadworks uphill in a mountain pass tunnel without enough time to get through and pressing himself against the wall as trucks descended towards him.

Thankfully our detour worked out well enough and we caught up with Ian Hennessey, riding fixed (!) as we approached the town. It was nice to share experiences with other riders as we relaxed in another friendly café. James was taking the time to eat and digest properly, so I didn't see him again until much later. I left New Quay alone and perhaps an hour or so later than last year. I knew the climb was huge, so I just plodded slowly up it, not worrying about my speed. Over the top the feared headwind arrived and was at its worst. I pulled up all my zips and slowed to a crawl thinking it could be a long, lonely journey back.

I love Wales

Thankfully I soon found myself descending on some lovely surfaces in the relative shelter of wooded valleys. Wide, winding descents with very little traffic. I love Wales. When it rained it was the light-refreshing kind. I caught up with Jamie and later Mike Lane who were both in similarly good spirits and the company was very much appreciated. This was certainly the best section for me. I took my scenic detour again on the way into Llandovery, but think I probably didn't gain so much in this direction as the others whizzed straight downhill to the A40 while I wiggled up and down on the quiet, and now dark, lanes. Another double pudding and hot chocolate in the West End café and I set off into the night on my own again, knowing the hills would be gentle, but the weather might not be.

That's not rain, THIS is rain

I remember last year being pretty fed up grinding along the A40 in the dark with my GPS messing me around. This time I took it calmly at what felt like a manageable pace. I was pleased to feel if not energetic, at least comfortable and capable. Every half hour or so I'd see a red glow in the distance, which would turn into a point of light, then disappear around a corner. Then I'd see it again. No, I'm not imagining it, that's another cyclist. 99% sure it's an audaxer; I wonder who it is. Then I'd slowly catch up, say hello, ride together for a bit before moving on steadily. As I was on the A40 for some two and a half hours in the dark, with very little traffic, this kept me amused.

So far the drizzle had been light enough that I hadn't really felt it. I did have to wipe it off my glasses from time to time as it was making visibility harder and forcing me to use more battery power in the lights than I would've liked. As I approached Brecon it was like the leak in the sky finally ripped into a gaping hole and all the water came tumbling out. Due to the headwind in exposed places, much of it ended up in my face. My buff got so soaked that I couldn't breathe through it, so I turned it around a bit which helped for a few minutes. Then I pulled it down and put up with having a cold face for a while. I had a spare in the bag, but thought I'd save it for later. I turned off the main road at Brecon, although maybe those who stayed on until Talybont made the right choice. The lanes through Pencelli were probably quite nice in the right conditions, but with the rain still lashing down, or horizontally, it turned into an endurance slog counting down to the control. Often I'm admiring the scenery on audaxes and wishing I'd brought my wife on the tandem. This time I was glad she was warm and dry at home. She would've hated this bit.

For the second time I got a bit cold, especially my lower legs in the 3/4 length bib tights. My unhelpful imagination pondered the possibility of getting a puncture at this point. I had two spare tubes, but stopping for long enough to change it might've chilled me into exhaustion. When Churchill said, "If you're going through hell, keep going", he probably muttered "...unless you're under-dressed and have a mechanical failure, in which case you're stuffed.".

A little later, as I rounded a corner going downhill I spotted a bike upside down and stopped to check all was OK, or at least fixable. I didn't recognise the chap, but he had a stone caught in his mudguard and was struggling to put the rear wheel back on. I shone my front light on it for a moment and he managed to relocate it. I was starting to shiver so, apologising for my lack of camaraderie, I returned to chugging along the road. Finally the turn for Dardy appeared and there was little chance of missing it as the road ahead had been closed. Around the corner a young couple dressed for pubbing made some surprised noises as I trundled past. I would've criticised the girl for having bare legs in this weather, but I would've been a hypocrite. As I paused at a T-junction, a police/Heddlu car wound down their window and asked, "What are you all doing?". I explained and managed to have a little chuckle about the weather.

The control was most welcome, like an oasis in the desert, except dry. And warm. And full of soggy people. OK, maybe not like an oasis, but nice anyway. Pasta, soup, spotted dick and custard, swapping tales of dampness. I thought about having a sleep, but didn't quite feel tired enough.

Only 52km to go

Back on the road alone again. Trousers and thin balaclava on. Soon wet, but seemed to help. I realised I should've changed the batteries in my main light (Ixon IQ) while I was in the dry. It was still working OK, but I wasn't sure how long it would last. Yeah, I can see the sense in dynamo lights sometimes.

Through Abergavenny and Usk too late for any post-pub heckles and out into the darkness. Somewhere I passed Mike for the umpteenth time. That man never gives up! I knew the final hill before Chepstow was approaching, so I stopped for a pee. Mike soon passed me aiming at a hedgerow and, for a moment, must've wished that his front light didn't give him such searing clarity of vision!

The final climb was long, but steady. Even wet and tired it was manageable at a relaxed pace. I occasionally got out of the saddle for a bit of bottom relief and my sodden Ronhills flapped around my calves. It wasn't fast, it wasn't glamorous, but it was an adventure. At the top the wind and the rain increased, which I hadn't thought possible. It was now beyond unpleasant and into silly. Almost funny, in fact. My waterproof socks were now full of water. Earlier I had been avoiding puddles, now there were only puddles, the road awash. Thankfully there was little debris. However, I did see several frogs. I think I managed to avoid them all. I was also surprised to discover that moths or daddy long-legs or something are able to fly in those conditions.

As the road tilted downwards I flicked on my Cree light to get a good view around the corners. It's really dazzling, but didn't matter as there were no cars around at this time. Last year I had descended into a chilly bank of fog and emerged shivering and grumpy. This time I think it was a few degrees warmer and I wasn't going so fast.

Navigation back to the community centre in Chepstow was easy. I was two hours later than last time, but I had arrived tired and happy. Well maybe not happy, but content. Relieved. I had a low point early on, but nothing like as low as on the 300 two weeks previously - that was mostly due to lack of sleep in the previous days. Yes, it was really tough weather, but made a lot better by the changing scenery and chats, long and short, with a wide variety of other riders along the way.

Lessons (mostly reminders for me)

Don't get cold. It's worse than sweating a little.
Eat steadily and rest after any large meal.
The Gore Oxygen jacket is worth the money.
Rethink the socks and trousers.
Change batteries in the control.

3D 300 Photos

2015-04-19T19:36:00+01:00

A few photos from the 3D 300. A very scenic 300km ride. I found it harder than usual as I hadn't slept well the night before, but managed to get around with time for a few photos.

Erm, somewhere near Axminster?

Between Axminster and Crediton. I think.

Just south of Crediton on the way to Dawlish.

The high hedges of Devon lanes, sometimes shielded us from the wind.

6.20pm, about to descend towards Bridport.

Climbing a hill for charity

2015-04-04T20:02:00+01:00

I've done a lot of challenging bike rides over the last few years, and often the organisers are collecting for Macmillan or a local charity, so everyone throws a few coins in, but that's not the main aim of the event, just a nice side-effect.

But on Saturday 20th June, I'm planning a new individual challenge to raise money for Wheels for Wellbeing. I'm fortunate to be able to enjoy the many benefits of cycling regularly and I believe that feeling of freedom and wellbeing should be available to everyone, regardless of ability. Not only that, but I think exercise has the potential to dramatically improve people's lives. Wheels For Wellbeing provide opportunities and bikes for people who might otherwise find cycling impossible. Have a look at their website.

Bowden hill climb 124m in 1.9km (1.1miles, 406feet)

The challenge is to climb Bowden Hill, near Lacock, Wiltshire, 72 times. As it's 124m up, that adds up to 8848m of climbing. This is the height of Everest from sea level, so is called "Everesting". I've never tried that before, but I like climbing hills and there's a pretty good view from the top.

Actually not quite the top, but nearly.

Not that I can hang around. I think it'll take 15 to 18 hours to complete the challenge, including breaks for food, comfort and maybe a change of shorts. Like all the best challenges, I'm not 100% sure I can do it, but I'm going to have a pretty good go!

So what do I want from you? Your money, obviously. :-)

But apart from that, I'd love it if you visited Lacock on the 20th June to support me, fill water bottles, or just sit in the pub and cheer/laugh every time I grovel my way up the slope!

The Rising Sun, Bowden Hill, near Lacock.

Oh yes, didn't I mention? There's a pub. In fact there are two. Interested now?

Seriously though, some company would be great and if anyone would like to join me for a climb or two, or more, they'd be more than welcome. I won't be going fast. This won't be some out-of-the-saddle power-fest, I'll be twiddling away in my lowest gear, just getting up and down safely as many times as possible. Hopefully before the sun sets at around half 9.

Kennet Valley Run 200km audax on the tandem

2015-03-08T14:39:00+00:00

As everyone else was setting off we were still putting the tandem together. A few minutes earlier I had had an urgent call of nature and had to queue. So setting off 5 mins late, but not too worried. After battling the headwind to Mortimer for ten mins, I suddenly realised I'd forgotten my brevet card. I blame the 3 hours sleep I got. The couple in the hotel room next to us thought that 4am was a great time to get intimately acquainted. I imagine they regretted that when we our microwaved porridge PINGed them awake 2 hours later!

Anyway, Erica forgave me, even after, back in the car park in Grazeley I spotted that our S+S couplings were loose.

Fixed and back on the road all alone. Didn't see a soul for ages. Doing sums in our heads about how fast we had to go to be within the time. Got to Hungerford with 15 mins to spare. I had a flapjack and Erica downed a cheese baguette in one bite. Nice to see Von Broad, Wobbly and others from the YACF forum.

On leaving the rear wheel was rubbing the brake a bit - must've been when I fitted the new pitlock skewer. Tweaked it a carried on. A few miles later, Erica got out of the saddle on a climb and we heard a metallic ping. Not nice, but could've been something in the road. A while later there was a tinkling noise from the back on the bike. OK, wake up, bikes shouldn't go tinkle, right? Oh, broken spoke. Removed it, had a supportive chat with Von Broad and carried on with no more out of the saddle honking. On reaching Pewsey Velo, we discovered a second broken spoke, but they didn't have the right size. It turns out that Rohloff hubs on 26" wheels need 230-235 or so. They did try to help, though. I eased off the brake to allow for the wheel wobble, but wasn't happy with completely disconnecting it. We spent the rest of the ride with a gentle rubbing noise coming from the back. We tried to ignore it.

I was mildly reprimanded for not having printed out this year's route sheet, so it didn't match the GPS track. But, as we battled the headwind and lumpy terrain approaching Bratton, my earlier brevet card blunder became a bit of a sore point. Grr, we'd be at the cafe by now if we'd left on time! I imagine the wind in my ears prevented me from hearing the worst of Erica's insults. It was the lowest and toughest point for both of us, but after a good rest and eat in Bratton we were feeling a LOT better and happier. The return to Hungerford was lovely riding, probably mostly because of the long views and tailwind, so we could actually chat a bit. We missed a turn in Burbage due to enjoying the conversation too much. The blonde lady in pink who we yo-yo'd with got ahead of us again, but no big deal.

Back in Hungerford a bit ahead of our 20kph estimate, but service was slow and we left a little after the 5pm we'd planned. A bit more clothing and lights on, ready for the hills. It was a lumpy section, but somehow we didn't feel as wreaked as earlier. We passed Wobbly around Winterbourne and enjoyed several speedy descents, especially into Bradfield. The Hope Vision 1 was pretty good, but at speed I was still worried about hitting unexpected potholes with two missing spokes in the rear. The final flat bit was much appreciated. We were getting a bit cold, but didn't really want to stop so near the end.

As we approached Grazeley Erica's gloved struggles with the satnav buttons finally caused her to emit a loud expletive. Unfortunately at that moment a group of earlier finishers rode past calling a friendly "Well done". We must've seemed very unfriendly. Sorry about that! Then we too missed the final turn. Not to worry, we'd made it, and with just enough time to drive back to the pub at Winterbourne for a much-appreciated meal.

Many thanks to the organisers and helpers for making everything else go so smoothly!

Mounting a B&M Toplight on a Carradice Bagman 2 Sport

2014-10-17T20:40:00+01:00

I recently bought the battery powered Busch & Muller toplight. The idea is to be seen in complete darkness and because of the size and the way it spreads light horizontally, allow drivers to judge my distance from them, without dazzling anyone. It also meets German standards, which are apparently enough to qualify it as a legal light. In the event of an accident this gives inattentive drivers and their insurance companies less room to wriggle.

Normally they attach to a full pannier rack, but the Carradice bagman 2 sport has no suitable attachment holes.

So a bodge was needed...

Ah, this painting tray isn't being used!

Chop, chop. Hmm, looks like it might work.

Washers to prevent the plastic bending too much from a point load.

More washers on the underside of the rack. Fiddly to fit, but got there.

Top secured with two cable ties. Possibly need one more in the middle.

Yeah, that should get me seen.

Improving PC cooling with water

2014-08-14T21:43:00+01:00

I've had some very occasional crashes with my PC a self-built Intel i7 system. These happened in both Linux and Windows, suggesting that it was a hardware issue. I checked and regularly saw temperatures in excess of 80 degrees C, which apparently is way too hot. When it occasionally gets even higher the CPU shuts down to prevent damage. Sensible, but annoying.

So recently I took the plunge* into water cooling with the simple, self-contained H60 system from Corsair.

I'm really pleased with the results. It's also really satisfying to be able to measure the difference so easily.

Win7, launching L4D2 with stock cooler. Win7, launching and playing L4D2 with H60 water cooler. * - pun intended. :-)

Planning for Paris Brest Paris

2014-08-13T08:42:00+01:00

It's only August, but 2014 has already been a good cycling year for me. I've ridden further than I ever have in a year and climbed some 58,000m. I did my first 200km less than a year ago and discovered that increasing distance, while challenging, is much easier than increasing average speed. My plan in Autumn last year was to do a Super Randonneur, which I've now completed. To be sure I was fit for this, I did a 200km ride every month through the winter, which tempted me to go for the RRTY award (200+ every month for a year). I finally completed that at the start of August on the tandem with help from Erica.

So what's next? Well, first I'm taking a break. No audaxes in September. This is partly to spend more time with family and friends, partly to get some badminton practice ahead of the winter season, but also to consciously break the RRTY streak, which has been described by some as an addictive treadmill. I think one guy has 17 RRTYs in a row at which point the prospect of missing a month is unthinkable. I do love audaxing, but I also want some variety and flexibility in my life.

Looking further ahead, next year is Paris Brest Paris, the second oldest cycle event in the world and an epic that I'd like to try at least once. To do that there's a lot of planning needed.

My SR this year allows me to pre-register a little early, although that probably isn't necessary, but it does at least make me feel prepared to do another SR next year which absolutely is required to qualify for PBP. I'm hoping that the SR, along with some club rides and regular commuting will add up to sufficient training. I'd like to get around comfortably rather than struggle, but I don't want to get so obsessed with training that I sacrifice family, work or social life. I think all these things are most enjoyable when balanced with each other. It might cause me some dilemmas, but I'm fortunate to have the choice.

The next thing to consider is the logistics of getting there and back. Some veterans of PBP advocate riding across and back, so the event becomes part of a longer tour and doesn't seen like such an intimidating prospect. I like this idea, but it would mean even more time off work and away from family.

I also need to consider where I'll stay before and after the event and how I'm going to secure my bike, which is a frequent source of anxiety for me.

Finally, I need to know which of the three starting groups to choose. Beginners are recommended to go for the slowest "Tourist" group, who get the full 90 hours to complete the distance. The downside is that it is the largest group, which means overcrowding at controls. The idea of having to queue for a bed is depressing.

So weirdly, I'm more apprehensive about the logistics than the cycling. I enjoy cycling and I'm now more confident about keeping going over some long distances. What I need is motivation to get myself organised.

First 600 - in search of dragons and legends

2014-07-19T13:13:00+01:00

600km is the longest of the "regular" events on the audax calendar, the longer ones being a bit special, like the Mille Cymru or London Edinburgh London. It's also the final part of the super randonneur award, which I had decided to aim for after my first 200k last year. At that stage I was uncertain that I could manage such distances. For me, part of the excitement is in finding out what I can do.

"Mae Mr Pickwick yn mynd i chwilio am ddreigiau a chwedlau" (Mr Pickwick goes in search of dragons and legends - according to Google translate) is a new event for 2014, which I chose partly because I was busy during the classic Brian Chapman Memorial and because I'd enjoyed so many of the organiser's shorter routes over the winter. With over 9000 metres of climbing, it was unusually hilly, but I was hoping the views over Welsh mountains and lakes would make it worthwhile.

The day before the ride I had an early dinner with my wife and daughter before spending the night in a B&B close to the start - a village hall near Tewkesbury. Saturday was the summer solstice, so the sun was already up as we arrived for the 5:30am start. People were quietly drinking tea, eating bananas and pumping up tyres. After a few words of advice from organiser Mark, we set off with a chorus of "clacks" as about 35 riders connected shoes to pedals. A large group formed and I chatted to a few people as we rolled easily along the deserted main roads in the early morning sunshine. Some had come from as far as London or the North East for the event. Most seemed to have done a 600 before and several were sporting London Edinburgh London or Paris Brest Paris shirts. I learned later that I was one of a number of newbies, but at the time I felt a bit inexperienced.

I had a couple of minor mechanical issues early on. My front brake rubbing slightly and my Carradice rack rattling as I rode onto the off-road path near Symmond's Yat. Thankfully I had basic tools and fixed both with little trouble. In preparation I had replaced my badly worn chain a week earlier. It was the first time I'd ever changed a chain and I was nervous that it would fall apart the first time I stood up on the pedals. Still, it was ok so far.

The first control was a pub in Monmouth where I had a quick drink and stamped my card, then on through pleasant lanes and parts of the still-quiet A40 to Llandovery. We'd now done 150km and it was near enough to lunchtime, so I had a milkshake, beans on toast and an apple pie with custard. I knew this would probably make me a bit uncomfortable for an hour or so, especially with the hills looming, but it was preferable to flaking out due to hunger.

I left the control at the same time as another James, who I'd met briefly on my 400. He immediately suggested a detour. I like company on audaxes, but prefer to stick to the recommended route unless I've had a chance to review it thoroughly with a map. Judging that he knew where he was going, I reluctantly followed and it worked out well enough.

Soon we were back on the main route and joined Ian Hennesey, jokingly referred to as "audax royalty", due to being a former chairman and popular organiser. He was good company and took James' more puerile quips in good humour. We climbed towards Llyn Brianne noting the info control on the way. I'd not been here before and was impressed by how spectacular the lake was. It was set at the meeting of several partially wooded valleys, creating a plethora of secluded coves along its winding coastline. The road skirted the hills above the shore with gentle gradients, giving ample opportunity to appreciate the view from every angle. As I descended along the lake's edge I spotted cyclists on the other side who seemed only a minute or two ahead. Then I'd round the next corner and see a whole new expanse of water I'd have to wind my way around first. I was left behind for a while as I stopped to appreciate it rather than taking it all in from the saddle and risking an impromptu swim. After some concerted effort I caught up with Ian and James. It didn't seem long until we reached the lonely phone box which marked the Tregaron mountain road. After only a little more up we were descending at last. The road was generally good, but often had a strip of gravel in the centre which required some care when cornering. Adding to the drama were a number of classic cars, some being driven a bit too fast for a mountain road. Thankfully we made it into town without incident.

I was now out of water, having only filled a single bottle at the last control. The weather was fine, but not especially hot, so carrying an extra 700g of water over the hills seemed excessive. Then again, it would've saved me an additional five minute stop.

After filling up in Tregaron I headed for the hills again, this time alone. The roads were wider now and better surfaced, but with surprisingly little traffic. The scenery was less rugged and the gradients kinder. In the colourful town of Pontryhdfendigaid they were having a fete and people were in fancy dress. From here I kept up a reasonable pace to Devil's Bridge, pausing only to snap a photo of a dragon's head door knocker.

The next control was the Woodlands cafe, which served only a dwindling supply of cakes and flapjacks. I had one of each, but the lack of savoury options led some to the nearby hotel instead. By this time several people, including an LEL veteran, were struggling due to lack of sleep in the past few days and the relentless hills. They were planning either to find a bed locally or make their way to a railway station to get home. Fortunately I was feeling ok, at least no worse than on previous rides.

Leaving Devil's Bridge I rejoined James for a while, but as we approached Machynlleth he admitted to being tempted to call it a day and relax in a hotel. He later posted photos online of his fish dinner and comfy hotel room to less than universal approval. Perhaps, having completed several 600s over the years, he had less determination than newbies like me. So I continued towards Barmouth alone and soon found myself climbing a gentle, but seemingly endless hill. In a low gear I could easily keep the pedals turning, but was breathing hard to maintain a reasonable speed. My average speed had been dropping off since Llandovery, due to the hills, but there was no point trying to rush as my legs were too tired to provide much torque. It looked like the top of the climb was about half a km away when I stopped for a breather in a lay-by. I knew the upcoming hills only vaguely and the next corner might've revealed further heights to scale. As I stopped, I looked back down the road and noticed the fantastic view. As the sun was dipping in the sky, I'd been climbing in the shade, but at the bottom of the valley, Llyn Mwyngil was still lit dramatically by the sun. The weather had truly been kind to us, it could easily have been nothing but drizzle and plain grey vistas. After snapping a photo I had one of my two gels, which I try to save for when I'm really tired. I hadn't seen any other cyclists for a while, but now I greeted a guy passing me. I didn't recognise him, but he was dressed for audax and there were few other cyclists around at this stage. Refreshed, I set off and managed to catch up with him by the top of the hill. In the valley the other side, we were nearing Barmouth, but still South of the river. Mark had told us there were a couple of crossings, but some might not be open, depending on when we arrived. We tried the nearest bridge and found the double gates shut with a closed sign. As we were about to leave we noticed a couple on the bridge enjoying the view. Curious, I looked more carefully and found a pedestrian gate which swung open when pushed. We trundled onto the wobbly wooden boards. The sightseers told us there was another gate up the lane on the other side, but weren't sure if we'd be able to get through. As we rode the kilometre or two across the floodplain, I hoped the barrier wasn't 8 feet high with spikes on top. Thankfully it was a simple farm gate and lifting the bikes over was easy enough. As we arrived in Barmouth the sun was still up, but considering setting soon. A good crowd had gathered in the control where Mark and helpers were providing soup, rolls, bananas and drinks. Much appreciated.

As I set off again the sun was low over the peninsula, where I'd sailed from Pwllheli with my wife some ten years ago. I put my lights on low power, just to be sure I was seen, as I could still see well enough to navigate the reasonable road surfaces. Even on full power I knew I had light for at least five hours. Thinking about it, there was no way I'd need the full set of spare batteries I'd packed, even if I rode right through the night, which I had no intention of doing, so they were just weighing me down. At least I wouldn't have to worry about conserving power.

As there was a slight headwind, more noticeable on the flat section by the coast, I followed close behind another audaxer. I don't know his name, but judging by the badges on his saddlebag and PBP shirt, he had plenty of experience. I lost him briefly as I paused to get a final photo from Harlech of the hills beyond Porthmadog. After a bit of effort I caught up again and soon we were on rural roads and climbing. The gradient reached 16%, not normally a problem, but as I had 300km in my legs and a bag full of batteries, even in my lowest gear (34x29) it was quite a struggle. When the slope reduced to around 5% it was a huge relief. The road was deserted and had recently been resurfaced, which made for an exciting descent of the other side. I was cautious in the dark, but with lights on full power and contact lenses in, I could see ahead well.

When the road flattened out I glanced back, but couldn't see the guy I was riding with. I didn't think I'd been going especially fast and I hoped he'd made the descent without incident. At the end of a long straight I paused momentarily and soon saw the white LED of a bike light in the darkness. He caught me a little while later at the information control. As I scribbled down the name of the pub, four others arrived. It was pitch black by now and we had some 30km to get to the bunk house, so I decided to stick with this small group as much as possible. Everyone has different highs and lows on a long ride, but I was feeling ok and I figured that these guys must've done the same average speed as me to be here at the same time, so I could probably keep up.

We climbed a shallow gradient for what seemed like hours. This was somewhere in Snowdonia, so I suppose this is to be expected. We made it over the top around midnight. With all our lights illuminating the straight, wide road, we barelled downhill, heads down and big rings engaged, with a surprising amount of enthusiasm considering the hour. This quickly changed after a sharp turn up a narrow lane. The road suddenly rose too steeply for tired and chilly legs - I had forgotten to pack trousers. I tried "tacking" across the hill, but soon wobbled into the grass at the edge and gave up to push. I wasn't the only one. However, once this last challenge was completed we were soon at the bunkhouse in Llanrwst. The simple pasta meal provided by Mark and Brian felt like luxury. The mood around the table was cheery. It felt good to be well over halfway and about to get some proper rest. "We'll have the wind behind us tomorrow.", "Isn't it all downhill on the way back?" By the time I was in bed it was 2am. I was asleep in moments.

When my alarm went off some 3 hours later I had mixed feelings. Part of me wanted to turn over and sleep for another five, maybe ten hours, but I was also excited about the challenge ahead. Getting up I realised the rest had done me good. It must have been the best three hours sleep I'd ever had. My legs could certainly feel the previous day's efforts, but I was no longer exhausted.

After breakfast I left my mountain of batteries and sleeping bag liner in the bag drop to be taken to the arrivee, making me about a kilo lighter. I got back on the road, very slowly at first and was glad to have left the excess baggage behind as I was soon faced with a long hill climb. It must have taken 20 minutes, but thankfully it wasn't too steep. Nearing the top I paused for a breather and admired another unexpected view. Behind me the mountains of Snowdonia were breaking through the clouds and the hazy morning looked to be brightening up. Some minutes later I reached the top and startled a herd of cattle as I clunked into a higher gear. They thundered through the field alongside me, matching my speed.

The descent was gentle, which I prefer as it lasts longer. Apart from the occasional tractor, there was little traffic. I saw a few other cyclists, but never rode with anyone for long, probably as we all climbed the many hills at different rates. Sometime after Bala I found myself riding along the shady side of a small wooded valley. The cool peaceful air was appreciated as the day was starting to warm up. The calm didn't last for long, however, as around the corner the valley opened up to reveal the steep Hirnant pass snaking up the mountain ahead. It was an intimidating sight. I stopped to take my jersey off and took a large gulp of water before climbing steadily. Although it got quite steep near the top it wasn't as tough as expected. Perhaps the gentler gradients before had refreshed me. Down the other side, through the dappled shade, I plunged into a densely-wooded valley. The road was suddenly flat. Weirdly flat. Surely it was lulling me into a false sense of security and would at any moment kick up to 20%? Through the trees I caught a glimpse of water. Lake Vernwy. Soon there was a clearing and picnic area, so I stopped, had a snack and enjoyed the view. For such a beautiful place it was really quiet - perhaps it's too far from densely-populated areas to attract many visitors.

As I continued, the hills returned and were mostly short and sharp on narrow lanes, often with a strip of gravel down the middle and grass overhanging the sides. One short stretch wasn't even properly surfaced but was a combination of rocks and mud over which I decided it was better to push. While the narrow lanes meant very little traffic, it also left little room for manoeuvre, so it wasn't safe to descend with much speed. I probably think too much about my average speed when I should just be relaxing and enjoying the ride, but I had noticed it dropping throughout the day. I had a vague plan that I'd like to get back for my daughter's bath time, but this was looking less and less likely. Still, it's all a learning experience.

I was navigating partly by GPS (Etrex 30) and partly by routesheets clipped to the handlebars. I don't like to rely just one method when in an unfamiliar area. I've learnt from previous rides that nothing slows you down like an accidental detour. However, with the great views and sometimes technical descents, I missed a turn. Zooming out I saw that my route would soon converge with the one I'd planned, so I carried on. However, on reaching Aberhafesp the instructions didn't quite make sense. I meandered through the town looking for the community hall. I had checked on Google streetview when planning, but had not taken the time to be exactly sure where it was. Eventually I stopped and asked for directions from some locals who helpfully pointed me in the right direction. It turned out that I'd missed the control when I went briefly off course. Next time I'll either mark them on the GPS, or put each section of the route in a different colour.

At the control Mark's ever-efficient helpers were handing out beans on toast. I ate slowly and chatted to some other riders, having had a fairly lonely morning.

Back on the road I was running a bit late. It had been a simple blunder, but I had lost half an hour finding the control. I thought it was unlikely I could average the 25kph I needed to make my original estimate. Still, I'd keep pacing myself and see how I felt.

The scenery became less rugged and wild, but the hills weren't over yet. In particular leaving Knighton was an unexpected epic and several of us considered it the hardest climb of the day. Looking it up on Strava afterwards showed a climb averaging 6% for nearly 4km. When it finally flattened out I felt like I was riding along the top of the world. As I approached Leominster, things did get noticeably flatter and I was pleasantly surprised how much more energetic I felt as a result. Gradually, my average speed started to creep up. The final control was a supermarket, so no reason to hang around. I grabbed plenty of drink, carefully filed the receipt and moved on.

I had hardly caught a glimpse of another audaxer all afternoon, so was slightly excited to see someone ahead with what looked like a worn-out saddle bag. Getting closer I noticed his t-shirt was unusually baggy and the saddle bag turned out to be a sack of cement, probably not someone out to climb hills! The last of the significant ups was at the Southern tip of the Malverns, after Ledbury. I was by no means fast, but the climb seemed fairly manageable. It's amazing how much it's possible to recover when it's flat, even while still riding fairly fast. Now I was counting down the kilometers to the arrivee, adding on my 4km detour at Aberhafesp. I turned off the main road down the tiny lane to Bushley and had a bit of a scary wobble on the central strip of grass. Mishap averted, I rolled into the quiet town hall car park and was congratulated by Mark on completing my first 600km, while his wife insisted I have a slice of toffee apple cake. I gladly accepted, drank as much water as I comfortably could and got changed as quickly as my tired legs would allow. I felt good, but was a bit wobbly. After driving the hour and a bit home, I had missed bath time, but was just in time to read my daughter a story before bed.

All in all my first 600 had been an enjoyable experience. A challenge and an adventure, sometimes sociable, sometimes solitary. We had been enormously lucky with the weather; it could easily have been windy or rainy, which would have made everything much harder. It was also made easier by the helpers at controls, serving much-needed food, often at times of the day and night when it would otherwise have been hard to find. I understand they had even less sleep than those of us riding. Finally we are indebted to organiser Mark for designing such a picturesque route, which made for an adventurous and scenic tour of Wales.

Mae Mr Pickwick yn mynd i chwilio am ddreigiau a chwedlau - Photos

2014-06-23T12:30:00+01:00

Photos to follow.

Something creaking on the bike

2014-06-09T17:17:00+01:00

While I'm riding, one of the main ways I know my bike is running ok is by the noise, or lack of it. As I often ride in quiet places, I've become used to the normal sounds of the gears and tires on the road and I'm acutely aware of any other rattles, clunks or, in this case, creaks. This is good because I tend to notice problems early. The downside is that I can be driven crazy by a leaf in the mudguard which probably isn't slowing me down much.

The creak started a few months ago and was occasional, mostly when climbing. I managed to live with it until recently when it became more persistent. It definitely came from the front of the bike and could be recreated when stopped by leaning on one end of the bars then the other.

Lennard Zinn's website has a long list of problems which fit this description, some much scarier, and more expensive, than others. At first I thought it was the headset or stem, so tried adjusting these, a bit tighter, then a bit looser. No change to the squeak. I inspected the titanium head tube and carbon/aluminium fork for signs of damage, but they looked fine to my inexpert eye.

Then I looked further down at the One23 QR skewer. I loosened it right off to the point that the wheel would drop out if I lifted the front of the bike. Pushing on the ends of the bars was now silent. Looking closer I noticed that the plastic bearing surface on the skewer closure was badly worn. It had large grooves in it, probably from the last few months of winter grit and maybe closing it too tightly sometimes. I was fairly confident that it wouldn't be unsafe to ride with. There was no chance of the wheel coming out, but the creaking was reason enough to replace the skewers.

Of course, it's a bit pathetic that a pair of £23 skewers would wear out within a year, even when ridden many miles on mucky roads.

To replace them I got some Hope skewers with a brass bearing surface. This, or an enclosed cam is far more reliable in the long term as I discovered from recent internet research. Had I known this, I never would have bought the One23 plastic ones. Still, lesson learnt. The Hope skewers are more than twice the weight mainly due to having a stainless steel rod rather than titanium, but the difference is still less than 100g - a few sips of water.

The noise seems to have gone, but I won't know for sure until I climb a few hills.

Lately I'm tending towards kit which is low maintenance and built to last rather than cheap and lightweight. This is partly for the long term financial and environmental cost, but mostly because I don't want the hassle. I prefer riding to tweaking.

EDIT: It turned out I was wrong. The creaking continued for all of my 600km ride. I did manage to get used to it, but I was annoyed not to have fixed it. Interestingly, it was actually more persistent than before. Secondly the noise disappeared completely when I rode in a torrential downpour on a different ride. This suggests that it is a two moving surfaces problem rather than anything internal/serious. As suggested here, I've just picked the plastic coasting off the fork dropouts and can't recreate the sound, but that was the case last time. I'll update again when I've taken the bike out for another ride.

EDIT 2 : OK, I really think it's fixed now. It wasn't the plastic coating on the dropouts, but the mudguard stays attachment, which was butting up against the skewers. Presumably this was moving very slightly when pedalling hard and causing the creak. Noticing this I moved the plastic eyelet to the other side of the dropout, so it's now inside the fork. The downside is that the plastic eyelet slightly rubbed on the edge of the rotating hub - not great for an efficient ride, but trimming a little plastic off them seemed to solve this.

EDIT 3 (October 2017): So the squeak came back in spite of the fixes above. I noticed it often changed, getting worse or better, when I swapped my B&M crown light bracket for the Dynamo light. This swap necessitates undoing the bolt through the fork crown. The last time I replaced this bolt I covered it in copper slip grease. I guess any grease would do but it's what I had to hand. I've done at least 300km since then with no noise. Maybe that means it's the solution!

DIY Audax over the Long Mynd

2014-05-26T20:14:00+01:00

A few photos from a 50km DIY I did today from Church Stretton to Marton and back.

A nice looking lane, but soon ramps up to 20%

Nearing the Stiper Stones, looking back down on the undulating climb.

Also near the Stiper Stones, looking to the right of the photo above.

A long steady climb round Shelve.

The obligatory "audax shot".

Brevet Cymru - First 400km ride

2014-05-07T07:44:00+01:00

For the third time in a year I told my friends I'd be cycling further than I ever have before. Of course this depends on how you count it. I've done tours that were much longer, but at less than audax pace. 400km (or 250 miles) is the longest audax I've yet attempted and, as it turned out, the furthest without sleeping.

Audaxing is supposed to be challenging, but I found this one really hard. Hard to the point where I didn't enjoy some bits of it. However, it was, obviously, a long ride, and there were plenty of bits I did enjoy, one of which was the scenery, as I hope the photos show. (You can click on the thumbnails further down the post to see larger versions. If by chance I've captured you looking particularly heroic and you want a hi-res original, let me know.)

This event wasn't only a challenge for those riding. The organiser, known to us as Blacksheep, had to contend with road closures and a control/sleep stop who at the last minute said we were double booked with a wedding party who didn't fancy a horde of sweaty cyclists devouring the canapes. Amazingly, Blacksheep managed to find alternatives without having us hack along miles of dual carriageway or muddy tracks.

Having not organised myself soon enough to book affordable accommodation nearby, I got up early and drove the 45 mins to the start, running slightly late as usual. I hadn't had enough sleep in the previous few days, so was reluctant to rise any earlier than absolutely necessary.

Still, I made it to the start in time to get a photo. Well over a hundred of us set off in pretty much ideal weather. Bright, if chilly, with a slight tailwind forecast to swing round later.

Early morning cycling might not sound like fun, but most "normal" people were in bed so even the main roads were virtually traffic free. I stopped for a photo as Tintern looked great in the sunshine, but I realised a bit too late, missing the most photogenic parts. There were plenty of other good views in the tree-lined Wye valley and I snapped a couple as I crossed the river.

Stopping, if only for a minute meant I lost sight of the large group I was with. Sometimes it's worth sticking with the group, for drafting, chat or at night to give cars ample opportunity to notice the sea of red lights. However in this case it was probably a good thing to drop off as it meant I rode at my own pace and took it easy for a while. I doubt I was the only one who started a bit too fast, only to slow down later.

Somewhere through Monmouth or Rockfield I caught up with a group of about ten riders as the countryside opened up and we were treated to vast views across the fields. Of course views mean hills and it did get a bit lumpy here, but nothing for fresh legs to complain about. That said my legs had been achy from the start, which was discouraging so early on, but I reminded myself that I'd felt the same on my previous two rides and still got round ok.

Before reaching the first control at Hay there was a long winding descent. Opinions varied on whether this was hairy or exhilarating. I was glad of the change but had to keep my eyes on the road and away from the tempting views. Several times I slowed down early for a bend thinking I'd play it safe, only to find it was sharper than anticipated and had to brake even more just to stay on the road.

At Hay I got my Brevet card stamped and had a cake which didn't really fill me up. Still, the cafe graciously filled my water bottle and I was on my way for the relatively flat next section. A bunch of four or five of us rode together at a pretty fast pace. One guy took the initiative to prompt a regular rotation at the front which kept us fairly fresh. His efforts were appreciated, but I think in retrospect I was going a bit fast for such a long ride.

As we entered Llandovery we were heckled by the local lads, but the staff at the West End cafe were friendly and efficient. They needed to be. Tens of cyclists arrived within a few minutes, all wanting food, drink and water refills. I had beans on toast with fried egg, which seemed to be what I needed. As I left, I discussed the route with Julian who had been in the group I'd arrived with. I had planned a detour through minor roads, slightly shorter, but with a bit more up and down. I said he was welcome to join me, although I wasn't sure what it would be like. Understandably he took the route he knew from last year rather than that suggested by some dodgy- looking chap he'd only just met! My route seemed fine to me, but I had no idea if it had saved me time until later.

Although much of the route to Tregaron was an 'A' road, the traffic was still light and mostly of the patient, considerate type. After the right turn at Cwmann I spotted the info control and, rather than stopping, did my best to remember it. A more experienced audaxer from Bath was with me at the time and missed the sign, so I told him the detail which he stopped to write down. However he soon caught up and warned me that the section after Tregaron was really hilly and challenging, something I hadn't really noted from my route planning.

On reaching Tregaron I realised I had definitely been going too fast, having completed 200km in a personal record time. This and a nagging need for the loo convinced of to have a proper stop. Time for a couple of drinks, something to eat and plenty of chat with other riders. It was also a good chance to recharge the GPS. Before long Julian turned up and congratulated me on my sneaky detour which had probably saved some five mins. Most audaxes have an official route, but as long as you pass the controls, you're free to go whichever way you think best.

Leaving for New Quay about the same time as me - an hour later - was Steve, another veteran of the sport with plenty of tales to share. For me chatting is one of the highlights of audax riding. As long as they have plenty to say I don't mind how long someone sucks my wheel. I'm thinking about getting a sign for the back of my bike which reads "James welcomes friendly drafters", although to be honest I suspect I do less than my share at the front.

Eventually I lost Steve on one of the many short sharp hills, only to find him in New Quay enjoying a steak pie with chips. He admitted to taking a shortcut that I'd avoided due to much of it being along a busy main road. We were well over halfway and the seaside town of New Quay felt like a treat as did the apple crumble I ordered. For a short while we were on holiday. One rider spotted some dolphins in the bay.

Leaving the town involved and apparently endless grind uphill - bad news for those who had filled up on fish and chips before leaving. It's a constant balancing act when riding long distances. Light, sugary snacks aren't enough for a full day out, but cramming with stodge risks stomach cramps. I don't have the strongest of stomachs, so I took the climb steadily, knowing I had plenty of time left. With 150km to go I still wasn't sure if I'd need a sleep at Llangattock, around 340km.

The route passed through pleasant countryside on quiet roads. The hills continued the long slow grind theme, or maybe it just felt that way as no one was rushing by that point. I didn't manage to team up with anyone, but saw plenty of riders I knew from earlier during brief stops. This time I skipped my detour and took the main road downhill towards Llandovery which was fast and easy. Once on the flat A40 I noticed a pair of riders coming up fast behind me. I tried to get in their slipstream, but I couldn't accelerate enough and they soon lost me. Not a big deal and it wasn't long before I saw them again in the now much quieter West End Cafe.

Maybe I should've gone for something more substantial, but impatience got the better of me and I ordered only a flapjack and hot chocolate. I left Llandovery around half past 9 with "only" 100km to go. It felt a very manageable distance. However it was now dark, so I turned on all my lights; the Hope 1 on low power pointing down in front of my wheel, the Fenix 2xAA on medium aimed to spot pot holes a bit further ahead. I also had a fibre flare shorty yellow on the front fork, and a red one coupled with a double led flasher on my saddle bag. With several hours of night riding a certainty, I like to be prepared. It was fortunate that I had extra lights, because as I was leaving, Jo (rabbit) arrived and she'd lost her rear light. I didn't like the idea of anyone attempting the A40 without rear visibility, so lent her my double led. The fibre flare seemed to do the job for me and the few cars who passed me left plenty of room.

In other respects, however this part of the ride was the hardest for me. There weren't any big hills, just gentle slopes along the main road, but this, combined with the lack of company or visible scenery made it feel a bit monotonous. There was nothing to take my mind off the effort and my slightly sore backside. Plus my GPS turned itself off for no obvious reason. It started up again ok when I stopped to check it out, which didn't take long, but it put me in a bad mood. I guess you have to expect these little problems and be stoic about them.

Eventually I did find another rider and we shared the wind for a while. We didn't say more than a couple of words until the control, but we tend to assume anyone on a bike at nearly 11pm is on the same ride. Coming off the A40 some way before Llangattock was a pleasant change and even the sleepy villages we passed through provided some interest and lifted my mood.

The hastily-arranged control at Llangattock was a community hall which had just what we needed. Blacksheep was there stamping cards and some gym mats had been laid out behind the stage curtain where at least one rider was having a well deserved rest. We spoke softly partly not to wake the sleepers and partly because we were weary ourselves. Feeling physically ok for the distance I'd done I hadn't planned to stay long, but the helpers were offering rice pudding, which I gratefully accepted.

Before long I headed back out into the darkness with a handful of others. From here it was along the A40 through Abergavenny. I'd been warned that it can be unpleasant riding through the town late in the evening, due to post-pub attitude, but we saw no sign of trouble. Perhaps we were too late. Soon we were passing through Usk and onto smaller roads.

Anticipation was building for the last big climb. Hills often separate groups of riders due to the need for each to climb at their own pace, which depends on weight, fitness and gear ratios, all of which vary widely. So the small group I was with spread out as the gradient began to increase. For a while my world shrank as I pedalled away in the darkness, with little noise except the chain and my puffing breath. I was startled out of this peaceful state as a car shot past full of youngsters shouting out of the open door. At first I was angry, but then I thought that they'd passed me with as much room as possible, so no harm done. I found out later that I wasn't the only audaxer to get buzzed by that car.

Progressing alone through a village I came to a turning with Chepstow marked left. There was nothing on the route sheet to indicate a turn and the GPS hadn't beeped, but neither of them are foolproof. I took the turn. However, I'd barely gone 50m up the road when the GPS buzzed to tell me I was off course. I got my phone out to check the map and it promptly shut down, out of charge. As I dithered over which way to go I heard the faint click of a gear change back on the main road. It was suddenly obvious that the road sign had been twisted around and I'd taken a wrong turn. It's not always a good idea to follow another cyclist, but when the GPS and routesheet agree there's a fair chance it's the right way!

I rejoined the road for the start of the real climb. There is something to be said for climbing in the dark, just picking the gears by feel and not worrying about the "wall of tarmac" in front of you. I had added a few extra layers of clothing at the last control and now, despite the late hour, I started to sweat a bit. I'm starting to think that sweating on an audax should be avoided if possible. It means you have to carry more water and even breathable fabrics end up a bit damp. When the road drops and wind increases, damp means chilly as I was soon to find out.

On reaching the top I was pleased to have got over the last big hill of the day/night. I was hoping to get a photo. There were some hazy glimpses of the lights of Chepstow and the Severn bridge, but nothing I thought would come out well on my camera. Other riders had told me of the glorious swooping descent from this hill and I wasn't disappointed. The road was just the right gradient to easily maintain a good speed without having to constantly pull on the brakes. It had bends to make it interesting, but few so sharp that you had to slow down for them. And it went on for ages. The only downside was that I got a bit cold on account of working up a slight sweat on the climb, but not enough to stop me grinning like an idiot. I much prefer a bit of up and down to a slog along the flat.

By the bottom I was in the outskirts of Chepstow. It wasn't far now, but every little rise in the road seemed like a major obstacle, I guess I'd cooled down and stiffened up a bit.

By the time I reached the control I'd been awake for about 22 hours. I handed in my card and grabbed my food from the car. I was a bit tired and grumpy, so after eating as much as I thought my stomach could handle, I settled down in the darkened back room and despite not having thought to bring a sleep mat, fell straight to sleep on the hard floor.

I woke about 8am feeling a whole lot more positive and started to look back on the highlights of the ride. In the end it had been all I'd hoped for. It was an adventure, a challenge with plenty of chatting along the way. There had been ups and downs and I learnt a few things. I had perhaps been over-confident, not respecting the distance as much as I should have. I'd been seriously intimidated by my previous audax, the Elenydd 300, but on the day I was comfortable and enjoyed every minute of it, which may have made me cocky. Perhaps starting with a bit of trepidation does me good. I'll be careful not to underestimate the 600 I have planned for next month and hopefully on the day I'll relax and have fun.

Yr Elenydd 2014

2014-04-18T19:33:00+01:00

I won't spout too much text here, this is mainly for the photos. But I must say that I really enjoyed this ride and would recommend it to anyone who doesn't mind some challenging climbs. It's fair to say you are heartily rewarded by the stunning views, joyful descents and the helpful and efficient controls. Of particular note was the food service at Tregaron Bowls club. It might've only been beans on toast, a jacket potato or rice pudding, but the friendly helpers served it so quickly we barely had time to find a seat. This is no doubt part of the reason why some of us managed to complete the ride fairly quickly. I was about half an hour quicker than my last 300, The Dean, despite nearly 1000m more climbing. We were also lucky with the weather, there was a little drizzle, but the gentle tail wind on the way home made a real difference climbing the Elan valley. In previous years they've had snow.

News or rhetoric?

2014-04-10T06:39:00+01:00

A while ago one of my Facebook friends shared the following image:-

On seeing this my first reaction, if not outrage, was to think the actions of the teacher were unreasonable. In general I would expect this to be a simple freedom of expression issue. In most situations a band is harmless and as such an individual should be free to choose whether to wear one. Free speech must include things that offend people, or it isn't free at all.

So to my mind, "In case it offends Muslims" is quite a poor reason. Maybe there was more to it than that? Until I know more, I'd give this unnamed school teacher the benefit of the doubt.

Plenty of schools have, for some time, banned jewellery including wrist bands as part of their uniform policy. As I understand it this is partly motivated by health and safety concerns, partly to prevent distraction and to avoid teachers having to deal with thorny issues such as trading or theft of the bands. To say that the H4H bands should be allowed as they're for a good cause leaves teachers having to police the grey area of how worthy other bands might be. So while individual freedom is a good thing, I can see the sense in simply banning all wrist bands to keep things simple and fair.

The details of this case are not referenced. A bit of Google searching suggests that the image was most likely motivated by this article in the Daily Mail. It was also covered by the Essex Chronicle. So at least it is based on something which actually happened. What is notable is that there's some ambiguity over the reason why the band was banned.

From the Essex Chronicle:

His mother, Tracey Tew, 38, claims this was because he was told the band may cause offence. But the school, in Wantz Chase, said the decision was made for health and safety reasons, with the headteacher reported as stating that jewellery risks "being caught".

There's nothing very definite about the "causing offence" part. The Daily Mail article starts, "A teacher allegedly...". They later quote a representative of the Royal British Legion to make a speculative link to Muslims. Whether you think "causing offence" was the real reason or one that was casually assumed in the hope it would make the story more shocking will probably depend on your political leaning and perhaps what social media posts you've seen recently.

Either way it's worth noting that papers often try to make a story out to be more shocking than it is through misleading headlines and words like "claims" and "allegedly". For example, The Daily Star has a headline from late 2013 that reads: "Outrage as school bans Help For Heroes charity wristbands". But contain your outrage a moment. When you read the full article, they admit that in fact it's not the H4H charity which has been singled out, but that all wrist bands are banned under school uniform policy. Presumably they only mentioned H4H bands as they thought this would get the most people angry so they'd read the article.

My friend seemed convinced that the story from the image, including the claim of "in case it offends Muslims" as the reason, was a fact. He further believes that it is a common occurrence in schools around the country and largely supported by liberal authorities. From what he said, this opinion is based on the accounts of friends and family members who are teachers. As anecdotal evidence, this isn't very helpful, but unfortunately it is how people often form their opinions. I don't claim to be immune to this kind of reasoning, but I do try to look critically at what I believe.

It's hard to find any genuine information not equivocated with "allegedly" about whether apparently harmless things like wrist bands are being regularly banned by overzealous liberals afraid of upsetting Muslims. I would have thought that if it was commonplace it would be quite easy to find concrete examples rather than tabloid speculation and inflammatory images on social networks.

I say "inflammatory" because the image seems to have been produced to create anger. The exclamation marks, the word "outrage", maybe even the clenched fist. Also, that isn't a school pupil's arm, unless their uniform involves disruptive pattern material.

Whenever someone tries to elicit an emotional reaction out of me to cause me to make a hasty decision, even if it's something simple like clicking "Share", I tend to back off and give it more thought. A common example is when an image tells a tragic personal story then turns up the guilt by claiming "99% of people won't share this, will you?". In such cases my answer is always no.

Another reason I didn't share this was that I'm not exactly sure what the campaign's aim is, besides encouraging outrage. I can only speculate, but presumably it intends to promote the idea that British values, including tolerance and free speech are under attack. What is less clear is whether the image intends us to see the attackers as overzealous liberals, Muslim extremists or Muslims in general. I would guess that the many people who shared this would have opinions across the spectrum.

As a simple captioned image, it can convey a message without having to provide evidence, references or follow the most basic journalistic standards. You may think that doesn't matter, it's just an image, but this has been shared some 26,000 times. So at least that many people bought into the simplified, black and white certainty presented and were outraged enough to pass it on.

In this case my friend was confident that the Muslims he knows would agree with his outrage and want the teacher to allow Help 4 Heroes bands. I expect he's right, but I don't think that the outrage-inducing captioned image he shared is constructive. When people are made to feel angry, maybe even afraid, they tend to be more suspicious and hostile to outsiders. At least the reverse effect appears to be real. When people feel secure and loved they are less hostile to outsiders. Perhaps a more helpful response is that suggested by the campaign group HOPE not hate.

Whether or not teachers are regularly banning things for fear of offending Muslims, a lot of people are now encouraged to believe that they are thanks to the implicit suggestion of the shared image. I start to wonder whether the people making these claims are doing so as a result of assumptions based on the same kind of evidence - anecdotes and images shared on social media. In any case we probably can't find out what the teacher actually said. The point is that these captioned images, often used for harmless humourous purposes can also be a powerful weapon for anyone with an axe to grind. They don't need to provide references and with no names there is little chance of legal repercussions if the claims are false. It might even be difficult to find out who created them.

I'm not saying don't share things. I'm saying give it some thought.

First 300 - The Dean

2014-04-01T08:25:00+01:00

Some time ago I signed up to ride The Elenydd - a 300km ride across the remote and scenic (read hilly) heart of Wales. I was getting quite intimidated by the prospect. Much of it was beyond what I'd attempted before. The distance, the 5000 metres of climbing, even pronouncing the names of the controls made me feel dizzy. Sure, I've been out climbing some hills, including most of the big ones around Bath, but I've never done so much in a day.

So I saw The Dean advertised and entered it on a whim. It was popular, not quite so hilly and much of it was familiar territory. In fact the route overlapped with at least four other rides I've done in the last year.

Oxford to Stow on the Wold

After a decent night's sleep in a basic pub room nearby, I woke up a bit early dreaming I was late for a sailing race. Slightly excited and nervous, it was pointless trying to sleep so I got up and managed to drive to the start on time. Eight degrees felt chilly, so I layered up knowing I'd have to strip off later. I filled one water bottle with the SIS energy drink and the other just with the powder but no water. It's hard to judge and a bit weather and effort dependent, but I thought one bottle would do me for the 50-ish km to the first control. This plan seemed to work out and I never ran out of water or felt thirsty, nor did I carry more than 600ml of water.

I had a bit of a chat with a few people at the start and as 6am arrived we set off in the usual understated Audax way. No one would appreciate a starting pistol at that time of day anyway.

We had a gentle tailwind all the way to Stow and things seemed to be easy going. As usual I was caught in a dilemma of working to stick with a fast group or to find my own pace. It being my first 300, I wasn't even sure what my own pace should be. In any case the large turnout made for plenty of opportunities for chatting and drafting.

Gouge in the big ring caused by the chain jamming itself in the hole. Not recommended.

Just before I reached Shipton, a short incline after a junction caused me to change down from the large ring without much planning ahead. The chain jammed and I was forced to get off and fix it. I thought it would simply be a case of winding the crank backwards and re-seating it. What had actually happened is that a link had become stuck in the triangular cut-out of the large ring. I tried pushing it back the way it had come, but it wouldn't budge. I didn't have many tools and I wasn't sure if the chain would be bent. It crossed my mind that this sloppy shift could end my ride. Fortunately all that was required was a bit of leverage from an appropriately sized allen key. Only five minutes lost and plenty of friendly riders checked I was OK.

I also owe thanks to the rider who shouted from behind when I day-dreamed my way off the route in Milton-under-Wychwood.

It seemed like everyone made quick progress to the first control. My receipt says 07:44 and there was a large group already there when I arrived. I bought water and drank what wouldn't fit in my bottle. Having climbed to reach Stow I was much warmer, so packed the trousers and jersey away.

Stow to Newent

The first thing we got on leaving Stow was a long downhill, great fun if a bit cold on legs which haven't been uncovered since September. The sun was behind me and I noticed that my shadow was a bit... flappy - one of my saddlebag pockets was open. Thankfully nothing lost and I managed to clip it shut without drama.

The pleasant Cotswold countryside became more dramatic and the climbing increased. With the thrilling descent into Winchcombe, I was glad that the weather was so good. I've heard that they've had snow during this event in previous years which would really spoil the downhills.

After the hills we were into one of the flattest parts of the ride and the increasing tailwind was really noticeable.

I reached Newent at 10 not feeling hungry enough to stop for a sit-down meal, so I munched a Clif bar and restocked my banana cache along with another bottle of water.

Newent to Chepstow

Looking North-East from near Aston Crews

In the hills which followed Newent I found it hard to maintain a decent pace. I wasn't too worried as was arguably the most scenic part of the ride. The Forest of Dean was beautiful and peaceful in the sunlight and partial shade. It was about 18 degrees which felt ideal. Saying that, my woolly socks were now getting a bit ripe, so I switched to a fresh thinner pair. The saddle bag may be heavy, but it brings some little luxuries.

Forest of Dean, taken from the saddle.

I was now feeling the distance in my legs and resolved to have a proper lunch stop at Chepstow. It didn't take much of a view to have me hopping off the bike and grabbing the camera. This happened more often when I was going uphill.

Near Soudley

Most of the climbing was manageable and the scenery distracted me from the effort, but several people later agreed that the climb through Bream as being particularly draining. It seemed like the town was built on the side of a mountain. The hill was maybe 4%, but for some reason it went on much further than I expected.

Near the Forest of Dean. Sorry, can't remember exactly where. This was a fairly typical view.

Around St Briavels I met up with a group of riders. I'm not sure whether I caught up with them or they with me, but either way the wind was now starting to become a problem, so the extra shelter was appreciated.

It was warm and sunny in Chepstow at 12:44 and the tide was out showing plenty of mud in the river. I was ready for some real food but didn't have much of a plan. It was a "free" control, so everyone could take their pick as long as the receipt said "Chepstow" for proof of presence. The high street was one-way against me, so I hopped off and pushed the bike. I soon stumbled across the Lime Tree cafe, which I vaguely remember reading up on before the ride. They did a decent veggie breakfast although it didn't come with baked beans. I did get my receipt, though. I remember thinking that if someone tried to mug me at this point I'd have handed over my wallet but insisted on keeping my hard-won receipts!

What was a bit annoying is that lunch took about half an hour to arrive. I'm not sure if resting mid-ride really helps me go faster later, but some digestion time is definitely good. As it was, by the time I'd finished eating I'd been stationary for nearly an hour and wanted to get going immediately.

Chepstow to Malmesbury

As is often the case after a "proper" meal I set off feeling a bit bloated and decided to take it easy for a while until I felt more athletic. The wind on the Severn bridge wasn't as bad as expected and much kinder than on Sam Weller's Day Trip to Wochma nearly two months earlier. Nevertheless, I appreciated the tow from a couple of other riders.

Crossing the Severn bridge.

I stuck with these guys for maybe an hour or so, taking my turn at the front. I probably should've made more effort to chat, but I guess we were all just trying to keep going as best we could in the post-lunch lull. Thankfully, by the time we reached the Somerset monument, I had enough energy to keep going up the hill a little faster than my last time.

Soon I was alone again, although I'm not sure who went ahead or stopped or what. I guess I was tired and concentrating on the route and keeping the bike on the road. Funny how long-distance rides can be a mental as much as physical effort. I saw only a few riders between Thornbury and Malmesbury. You only have to be a minute or two ahead or behind another rider not to see them at all. As usual, when I reached the control there was a good crowd. Most people were a lot less chatty at this stage (after 200km), but the Hackney crowd seemed to be in good spirits. I bought some water at the Co-Op and was dismayed to receive a large pile of change. I was annoyed, quite unreasonably, with the guy on the till, but I guess earlier riders had cleaned them out of five pound notes. It was 15:54.

Malmesbury to Membury

Looking back West from near the top of the hill at Broad Town.

As I live in Chippenham, much of the next section was familiar from club runs. However, even without the local knowledge, the ridge at Broad Town was obvious from some distance away. Every rider knew that unless the route took a big u-turn, there was no escaping that hill. With about 3000 metres climbing already in my legs, I crawled up it, knowing there was a second hill on the way. Hackpen hill was even more obvious with few distractions save the white horse. This took the route to 250m, its highest point since before Winchcombe. Usually when reaching the top of a second big climb like this I'd feel some sense of achievement and relief. This time the headwind, which had been niggling for some hours, stole any relief and I had to work fairly hard to keep up a decent pace on the gently rolling downhill section. Still, the expansive landscape and relatively quiet road meant it was still enjoyable.

Approaching Hackpen Hill including the white horse.

Around this time another rider appeared behind me. Looking on Strava at his times on the last two hills he'd worked pretty hard to catch up. It was Alan, who made good company for the rest of the ride and with whom I gratefully shared the wind. I switched my rear light from flashing to gently pulsing as it must've been doing his head in. We memorised the information control in Marlborough and enjoyed a good pace through the lanes to Membury, arriving about 18:46. More water, rocky road and pinched some (OK, a lot) of Alan's crisps. Maybe this wasn't the best combination of food as I had some heartburn at times, but I didn't feel I could manage anything more substantial.

Membury to Oxford

As we left Membury I somehow forgot that service stations tend to attract cars and blithely crossed in front of a jeep. They had plenty of time and space to avoid me, but I was a bit embarrassed to have been in the way. It was now dark enough to need the lights to see by. As Alan had forgotten his front bracket, he'd had to zip-tie his light to the stem, meaning he had a great view of the back of my head, but not much else. So I took the lead.

Around the first corner we noticed a set of of red lights ahead and agreed to try to catch the small group. They were going at about our pace and were helpful enough to warn us about any big holes or sharp bends. We stopped a couple of times to moisten the verges and change batteries in people's lights. Despite these interruptions, riding with the group definitely brought my average speed up. I'm sure it's also a lot safer as a group of cyclists riding two abreast with various bits of reflective and lights is much more conspicuous than an individual, who might not notice if their rear light stops working. After 250km I was fairly tired, but didn't feel significantly worse than two thirds through a 200. Perhaps it helped that by this stage I felt I had a good chance of completing my first 300. I couldn't have sprinted, but I managed a few brief turns at the front and we averaged over 25kph.

It was quite different to riding in the daylight earlier and there were some great moments. I was especially excited as we descended single file through the darkness into Lambourn, lights blazing in a line down the gently winding road. It's a shame that I couldn't get a photo, but it would've been a pretty stupid time to ride one-handed.

I had done a lot of homework on the route and considered a couple of detours to avoid a bit of B-road and the centre of Oxford. However, in the end I decided that the main road was quiet and well surfaced and it was worth staying with the group. Furthermore, my GPS (Garmin Edge 500), died at 290km, so I wasn't keen to strike off on my own.

We approached Oxford around 9pm and by the time I was proudly claiming my receipt at the Peartree Waitrose it was 21:21. Alan and I congratulated each other and said goodbye. I was really pleased to have got through my first 300 without too much difficulty. I think I felt better than at the end of some of my early 200s, which may have been harder due to the wintry conditions. I'm sure the Elenydd will be harder and, I expect, slower, but at least now I feel confident I can keep going. The Dean is a great route, made better by good weather and good company. I'd certainly like to repeat it and maybe persuade my wife to join me on the tandem next year.

No more rattling rack

2014-03-31T11:41:00+01:00

After trying to put up with the saddlebag slapping the backs of my legs, I soon got a Carradice Bagman 2 Sport rack. This does a good job of eliminating any movement from the bag and is really easy get the bag on and off.

However, the QR bracket clamps onto the saddle rails with a single, large nut.

I always try to be aware of the sounds the bike makes and investigate any unusual rattles. After a 120km ride last year I noticed that the rack was noticeably loose. Reluctantly I stopped to tighten it up, knowing it would only get worse and it would be pretty serious if it fell off and went in the spokes or the shock load damaged the saddle rails. In another 20 bumpy kilometres it was rattling again.

After that ride I covered the nut thread in the recommended blue threadlocker, which is meant to stop things rattling loose. This does help, but it still comes loose from time to time, which is frustrating and slows me down.

Then I thought that maybe I need to damp the rattling to prevent tiny movements from working the nut loose. I've heard plenty of cyclists use old inner tubes for just about anything, and as I had a thoroughly-punctured one lying about I chopped a few rings off it and put them over the bagman's clamps.

Underside of saddle with rubber inner tube bits on both parts of the bagman clamp (black) around the saddle rails (grey).

I've only done a 300k ride with this, but I haven't noticed any movement so far. I should probably check it regularly for any play - if it did get loose, the rubber may quieten any rattling noise - so I may not notice. As always I'll update the post if this hack doesn't work out.

UPDATE: Well the hack mostly works. It has come loose again though, so rather than adding it to a list of things to check, I've put two narrow cable ties through the middle of the clamp. Even if it came loose it wouldn't fall off. I do have to cut and replace them when I move the rack, but it's no big deal. Still a nice rack, but a shame these things can't work out of the box.

Admitting defeat

2014-03-14T21:29:00+00:00

A few months ago I tried to fix an old monitor that had gone, literally, on the blink. As it was an intermittent fault, it seemed to have worked, but it didn't last. I tried one more trick, replacing the large cylindrical capacitor in the centre of the beige circuit board below, but that didn't help. I think the larger ones can break more subtly, rather than bulging or popping like the little ones.

So it's been taken to the ~~tip~~ household recycling centre.

I could've carried on replacing components at little cost, but you do have to admit defeat sometime!

Ice and sunshine: Kennet Valley Run

2014-03-04T21:20:00+00:00

When riding through the winter you can expect to have some icy days, especially first thing, but so far I'd been lucky. The last two rides were wet and at least when it's raining you know there's less chance of the dreaded slippy stuff. This time the skies were clear and the air chilly. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day, but at 7:30am, the car park in Grazeley was noticeably slippery. Still, a good crowd of us set off with caution.

My plan was to do the first 50km at a gentle pace, taking particular care on corners and descents. This is usually a good way to start, but often it's tempting to cling to a fast group early on. Fortunately I found a similarly-paced loose bunch and took it easy for a couple of hours. I'm not sure what speed I was doing as the wheel-speed sensor was playing up telling me I was doing 54kph on the flat! After a while I disabled it to rely on GPS only. The pleasant scenery was made better by the steadily rising sun.

By half eight the temperature was well above freezing. I was itching to get a move on, so I pushed ahead of the group a bit. Unfortunately one of the faster groups had come off on a patch of ice on a corner at speed. One was lying on the floor with a broken leg. Luckily for us, his friends were waiting to warn the following riders of the danger or I expect there would've been more accidents.

After that sobering incident I progressed with renewed caution in a smaller group, one of whom I recognised as a former colleague from some 11 years ago. We caught up at the first control, which was being manned by a chap married to one of my sister's friends. Small world!

After cramming down a flapjack, I left my erstwhile colleagues to their beans on toast. Now more confident that the ice had gone, I rode on a little harder through mostly-flat countryside, passing canals and through villages. Distracted by the charm of Great Bedwyn I missed a turn as I cruised down a hill and for some reason didn't take the buzzing GPS seriously for another few minutes. A quick check on the phone and routesheet and I was stomping back up the hill muttering at myself.

One example of how your brain can go to mush when cycling long distances. There's a tiny white horse in the distance, but I somehow didn't notice the massive pile of poo in the foreground!

I gradually caught up with some other riders, but as the views got more dramatic I repeatedly stopped to take photos and had to catch up again. The quality didn't turn out so well this time as I was travelling light and had only the smart-phone camera.

That's no lake! (Somewhere near Market Lavington)

After taking the turning for "The Lavingtons" there was only some 10km to the furthest control, where the route doubles back on itself. It was a bit depressing to see other audaxers (I think) already on the way back, somehow 20km ahead of me! Still, I greeted them cheerily. To be fair, I also saw some of the slower riders on my way back.

On reaching the Bratton cafe I was a bit disappointed to find the same people I'd been chatting to in Hungerford, already awaiting their second bean-feast of the day. As I hadn't seen them on the road, they must've passed me while I was scratching my head in Great Bedwyn. It doesn't matter how hard you pedal if it's in the wrong direction!

A windmill seems like a good excuse to stop briefly on this climb.

Back pockets were already stuffed and the small saddle bag won't stretch to accommodating stationary.

I was feeling good approaching Hungerford for the second time and decided to "bump" the control, just grabbing a stamp and heading off. I had about a quarter of a bottle of drink left and was wondering if it would be enough for the final 50km. In the end I stopped at a news agent to grab a bottle of water and pack of pencils (you can't buy just one!) to fill in the info controls, something I must remember in future. I was a bit stuck about where to store the pencils until I realised I still had one empty water bottle. That seemed to work and didn't rattle annoyingly.

The hilly final section was a rather challenging after 150km, but did provide more nice views. I was very glad I had opted for extra water! The final information control, the church of St Peter and St Paul was particularly picturesque and I grabbed a photo despite having the writing equipment to prove my passage.

One of the most interesting information controls.

As is often the case I was alone for the final stage, but distracted myself by working out when I might arrive and trying to get back before 5pm. In the end I was a little later than that, but pleased with a fantastic day's ride in better time than usual for me. Maybe it was because I switched to a smaller saddlebag, or because there were fewer hills and less wind, but I think it was probably due to the weight saved by clipping my toenails the day before. ;)

Many thanks to the organiser and helpers staffing the controls, and carpark as well as providing a great spread of food at the start and finish. Much appreciated!

Between Two Stools: Sam Weller's Day Trip To Wochma 2014

2014-02-05T17:18:00+00:00

In the days before the second Blacksheep event of the year, the weather provided much cause for (online) discussion. The forecasts variously promised ice, snow, torrential downpours and gale-force winds. Some suggested that this might create some photogenic moments as we crossed the M48 bridge with a side wind gusting to 60mph. Several riders heard of the impending sky-tantrum and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. To be honest, if it had been as bad as the early predictions, I probably would've gone back to bed. By Friday night the outlook was much less apocalyptic and in the morning things were dry and before long, bright.

In trying to get as much sleep as possible, I arrived at the start a bit late. By the time I'd done my usual pre-ride faffing, the main groups had disappeared. They were probably only 5 minutes ahead of me, but with the side/headwind I knew catching them would be really hard. I had a vague plan to make sure I was part of a group during the full-on headwind section from Wormelow to Chepstow. So I worked to catch up.

The James Gillies riding fixed.

First I caught up with Wobbly, who was riding at a much more sensible pace than me. I hung around for a brief chat before pushing on. It wasn't long before the sun came up and contrary to expectations, we would actually see it and enjoy some good views.

The fast pace turned with my heart rate regularly in zone 4 was probably a mistake. I managed to catch up with a faster group: Jo, Peter and David at the Wormelow control, but only managed to gasp a greeting before they moved off.

Looking back on hills from the Monmouthshire border.

Now I was tired and without a group to share the wind. Next time I will get out of bed a little earlier. Another tip for the anti-blunder checklist.

The climbs were tough and the descents not much better with the headwind, but the scenery only got better as we rode into Monmouth and down the Wye valley through Tintern.

Bridge at Monmouth

Fortunately, the route had been planned for this time of year and very few large puddles were encountered.

The Wye Valley with flood plains.

Somewhere down the Wye valley I managed to catch a ride with Bairdy and co, which was a great relief.

More of the Wye valley.

In Chepstow I chatted with a few other riders, and had a couple of cakes as my kit dried on the radiator. Refreshed, I set off feeling new strength in my legs. Those cakes must've done the job, I was flying along! As I turned a corner I soon realised that this wasn't as a result of some new-found wonder-cake, but the tailwind that I'd been waiting for all morning.

North (leeward) side of M48 bridge and river Severn.

Fortunately on the North side of the bridge the cycle track is wide and somewhat sheltered by the raised roadway. Having been apprehensive about this I relaxed and even hopped a small ramp at the far end of the bridge, just as the carriageway lowered and a huge gust of wind threw me sideways. I only just regained control in time to fit through the narrow gate and off the bridge. I expect if I check my Strava log I'll see a bit of a jump in my HR there!

Malmesbury high street.

The rest of the ride was comparatively easy, plenty of climbing, but with legs that weren't worn out from the constant battle against the wind. Several flatter sections were delightfully fast as the road aligned with the prevailing wind.

I didn't see any other riders after Chepstow, but I'm sure many of them will have been grinning at the effortless speed the wind provided. It may have been a lonely end to the ride, but it was still enjoyable. I caught a spot of rain toward the end of the day, but many more hours of sunshine. Pretty good weather for February and another great route.

Hope are a great company or maybe the others are rubbish

2014-01-23T21:12:00+00:00

Not content with making some great bike lights, Hope have proven themselves by providing a free light-fixing service to our three-year old light.

We were given a Hope Vision 1 as a present some three years ago. It was described as an entry-level mountain biker's light, which makes it more than adequate for pitch-black lane riding. We've used it a lot on the tandem and more recently for commuting and have always been pleased with it.

More recently I've been doing some rather soggy audaxes, usually starting in the pre-dawn dark. The Vision 1 did a great job in these conditions until I noticed later in the day that it kept turning itself back on. This was annoying as I expected to do a bit more riding in the dark at the end of the day, so wanted to conserve battery power.

When I got back home and dried off I opened up the light to see a few droplets of water on the inside. Not good news. I tried a little silicon grease on the main seal, but the same thing happened again. As if often the case a little Googling suggested that Lancashire-based Hope are great at fixing lights with these kinds of issues. A little skeptical, I nevertheless downloaded the returns form from their website and sent the light off in the hope of a fix (see what I did there?).

Less than a week later, the light was back and fully working, free of charge. I was surprised and impressed, but really this is how all companies should work and I'd be happy to pay a bit more if they did.

Two Calendar Audaxes

2014-01-22T13:40:00+00:00

My last two 200km audaxes were calendar events. Kings, Castles, Priests and Churches in December and Mr Pickwick's January Sale in January. Due to having been all kinds of busy, I'm writing them up now...

Kings, Castles, Priests and Churches (7th Dec 2013)

The 7am start was cold, dark but at least not raining. I was hoping to be a little faster than last time, as I wanted to get home in time for the badminton club's Christmas party. This was particularly ambitious as I'd been out late at another party the night before and the early start meant I'd had about 4.5 hours sleep. Never mind, I guess it's all part of the challenge.

Starting in the dark, about ten of us found ourselves trying to keep up with the fast group. Racing down the B-road to the West of Tewkesbury, each with several LEDs flashing, we must've looked like some kind of runaway fairground ride. I'd put on a thin balaclava and slightly overheated due to the frenetic pace, resulting in me finishing a whole bottle of water/energy mix by the first control. Usually in a group I'll do well on the hills, but either this group was particularly strong or I was feeling weaker than usual as I found my legs quickly tiring. At Bromyard control I had a slice of Christmas cake and got a bottle refill. We'd averaged over 27kph and I didn't expect to keep that up all day. On leaving the control the group drifted apart and the glimpses I caught of the faster riders' rear lights became gradually rarer as they increased their lead. I still felt OK and continued at my own pace.

After another couple of hours, and the long drag up the hill leaving Ludlow, I was really starting to tire. Perhaps part of it was gassing to Jo (aka rabbit), maybe I should aim to do more listening. What's more my front mudguard seemed to be full of crud, making an irritating rasping noise. Not wanting to stop for long I tried poking a twig in the side to clear it, but after a few more miles it was obvious this pathetic attempt had failed. Biting the bullet, or rather a handful of nuts and dried fruit that I always try to eat when stopping for a bit, I and took the wheel off. As suspected, loads of sticky mud clogging the inside of the mudguard and discouraging my 28mm tyre from rotating smoothly. It can't have all been collected this morning, so this is obviously something I should check when I clean the bike.

A couple of passing audaxers checked I was OK. Apart from fretting over how to clean the brown sludge off without getting myself mucky, I was fine. A real man would've used his fingers; in the end I grabbed a sturdy looking stick and managed to liberate about a Mars bar's worth of what I hoped was mostly mud.

Much better. The main way I can tell if something has gone wrong with the bike is the weird noises it makes. It was a relief to ride without that gritty rasping. I've no idea how much it was slowing me down, but the psychological difference was reason enough to fix it.

However, now the Herefordshire hills were taking their toll and, despite Clif bars, gels and regular sips of water, my legs felt weak. The hills weren't especially tough, but at times I was struggling to keep the pedals turning. The only thing which made me feel better about my sagging average speed was the ever-climbing altimeter, which hinted at a big downhill, any time now... Determined not to get off and walk I limped over the last of them with a cadence in the mid-forties.

At the Kington control the café staff were helpful and welcoming. I opted for beans and egg on toast. It took quite a while to appear, but I passed the time chatting with other riders. Ideally I'd want to eat as soon as I arrived and wait a bit before setting off again so the food has some time to go down. But after nearly an hour at the control I felt the clock was ticking so jumped on the bike and resolved to ride gently for a while. Unfortunately this wasn't to be as Kington is surrounded by hills. Soon I was feeling bloated and uncomfortable. I pushed on as best I could, getting out of the saddle for some relief where possible. I shared the headwind on the flatter parts with David and Peter. After much anticipation the downhill arrived and we were able to make the most of it on the well-surfaced B-road.

By the time I'd reached the final control and satisfied the chocolate bar craving, I felt the best I had all day and had a good bit of bike chat with my companions as I finished off an apple. It's funny how I can go from feeling like I can barely turn the pedals to raring to go, without taking that much rest. I knew there were a couple of hills ahead, but nothing like what we'd already crossed, so, with less than 40km to go I left David and Peter behind and tried to go as fast as I could. It was getting dark by now, but I'd researched this part of the route and the navigation was thankfully straightforward. Well actually SOX, R\@T, SOX, R\@T...

I made the arriveé in good time, but only ten minutes ahead of my erstwhile companions and about the same time as someone who'd started an hour after me! But the important thing was that I made it and managed to get home in time to rush out for dinner.

Mr Pickwick's January Sale (4th Jan 2014)

This time the "extra" challenge was getting to the event. We had been staying with family in Shropshire over the new year, and rather than have a really early start, I booked a B&B near Tewkesbury and took a train to Great Malvern the afternoon before. From there it was a mere 22 kilometres to a warm, dry bed with no adorable, but sometimes noisy, daughter to interrupt my sleep. This would've been a good plan, but for the wet and windy weather. Arriva trains were all at sixes and sevens, adding up to a half-hour delay and a sprint over a footbridge carrying the bike in what I imagine is a bit like cyclocross, only with less mud and more apologising to commuters. Leaving Great Malvern on the bike was another challenge. I found I needed to ride down the middle of the lane so the side wind would only blow me to the kerb, rather than over it or into a ditch. Thankfully the drivers were mostly patient and considerate. Out of town things calmed down until I neared Upton on Severn. This turned out to be a misnomer, as it looked to be mostly under Severn. The main road was blocked so I did a U-turn and started looking for alternatives. The rain had started coming down hard, so I didn't want to use my phone for navigation.

Thankfully I met another cyclist - a friendly local lady on a shopper bike. She carefully explained an alternative route to me, which I promptly forgot. Lucky for me she was starting out in the same direction and yelled at me when I signalled for a wrong turn. Eventually I made it onto the A38, which was a bit busier than I would've liked and probably a bit dangerous in the dark despite my lighting, so I took a detour through some side lanes running parallel. Unfortunately here I met another flooded road. In the dark I wasn't sure if it was passable. I had a go, but water, unknown debris and general wobbliness forced me to wade back the way I'd come. My waterproof socks were now doing a good job of keeping the water in.

After nearly twice as long as expected, wet and bedraggled, I arrived at the B&B. They were only too happy to welcome me and my dripping bike into the hallway. (I've booked them for the next ride.)

The next day it was still raining, although we'd been promised that it would stop mid morning. The organiser was a local man, smart enough to have routed us away from the worst floods. We went off at a more sensible pace than last time and progress in the dark was steady. I couldn't read the routesheet in the dark (I'm considering bringing a head-torch for that next time), but the GPS did its job well. I didn't really have a big low-point in this ride, which may be because around the usual half to two-thirds point I was riding a little more slowly than usual to chat with the seriously dedicated rider known as Bikey-Mikey. He rides a little slower than me, but finishes faster because he doesn't eat or drink much in controls. I guess that this means he's burning fat, which I'm told, is something which takes a long time to develop, but is great for long distance rides as a little bit of fat goes a very long way.

Having done solo permanent and DIY by GPS for the previous two months, I've been reminded why I like the calendar rides. That's not to say that there aren't advantages to DIY ride - planning it all yourself and deciding where to go can be part of the fun and certainly ticks the self-sufficiency box. It can also be good to work entirely to your own schedule, with no trying to keep up with the "fast" group or having to stop at a control at a fixed point, rather than when your body says so.

Despite all that I'd still prefer a calendar ride, mainly because they're more sociable. Even on a thoroughly wet day in January, an impressive 45 riders turned up, so whatever pace I ended up going, I'd always find someone for company and chat. In the January Sale, the other advantage - drafting, was limited by the huge puddles and my vain desire to have a clean face. I made the mistake of looking in the mirror at the first control and felt compelled to have a quick wash. There are other advantages include being able to explore a new route that someone (else!) has put a lot of thought into, but overall the social aspect is the main draw. Having done several rides in the same area, I've seen a few of the same people. I've met the gruff but considerate Peter towards the end of all the calendar 200s I've done. He's obviously used to riding in groups and is always willing to give struggling youngsters a tow. At least this time I also took my share of the wind. When climbing arduously through the Cotswolds after some 150km we passed a dog which started barking frantically at us. It's owner struggled to restrain it saying, "Sorry, he hates bicycles!". Peter grunted, "So do I!".

I was also glad to find someone with about as much audax experience as me. Jo, who has a done more biking off-road than on, is audaxing for a less competitive challenge. We tend to cross paths in the early stages of a ride, while in later stages her very short breaks at controls mean she leaves me behind.

The final control of the January Sale was very welcome. Riding a little slower than usual meant I was a bit colder than usual. I'd dressed in Ronhills, a long-sleeved Smelly Hansen, waterproof and hi-viz gilet with gloves that were only good for a shower. It had rained most of the day. I decided to stay for about half an hour in the pleasant Italian café in Chipping Norton, consuming a couple of cakey things and a hot chocolate. I warmed up and felt a lot better after that. If the aim is to finish as soon as possible, I don't know how long the ideal stop would be, but the last 50km or so was very much more enjoyable and certainly a bit faster for the recovery. I even managed to enjoy the "sting" in the tail of the ride in the form of the hills leading to Winchcombe.

Approaching the end of the ride, for some reason I took a scenic detour through Tewkesbury's Priors Park. This was marginally shorter and away from the main road, but also flooded to an unknown depth for at least 200m. After the previous night's adventures I decided I'd had enough swimming so turned around and took the main road, which was fine.

I was delighted to be met at the Arriveé by my wife and 21-month old daughter who for the first time, spontaneously toddled over and hugged me - after finishing the computer game on Mummy's phone!

2013: Cycling and the geeky data

2013-12-31T17:35:00+00:00

If I had to pick one word to describe my 2013 it would be "colds". This year I'd guess I've had more days feeling at least a bit ill - sore throat, runny nose - often nothing serious, but annoying. Eventually I realised that if I stopped doing things because of a cold I'd get nothing done at all. I had 8 days off work sick, a record for me, but still less than the national average of 9.1.

The likely cause is Sasha bringing home new bugs from nursery. With an immature immune system, she catches everything and doesn't understand that sneezing in her parents' faces or over their dinner is not cool. We rarely became seriously ill, but the regularity of infection has been a real drag. Still, this is easily forgiven as she's really cute and now she's walking and talking, it's so exciting to watch her learn and grow, even from behind a tissue.

One of the things I've been just carrying on with in spite of the colds is cycling. I did do some Internet research on whether this was a good idea and the general consensus seems to be that it's fine to train with a cold, as long as the symptoms are neck upwards. A chesty cough, stomach bug or achy joints would necessitate rest. As far as I could tell, cycling didn't make me more likely to catch colds, nor make them more severe. Rather unscientifically, I took 6 weeks off hard exercise and still had the same kind of sniffles. So my policy for all but the most serious maladies is to carry on regardless.

2013 Heat-map

Looking back on my cycling statistics for the year and I'm quite surprised about how far I've gone and how high I climbed.

2013: 5097km (3142 miles) and 52353m climbed (32 miles)

2012: 1727km (1064 miles) and 16166m climbed (10 miles)

Several times this year I did longer rides than I've ever done before - 188km, 214km and then 246km (151 miles). However, the total distance probably isn't my most in a year, as I probably did more than that in 2000, most of which was cycling across Australia.

The heat-map is a nice visual representation of the year's achievements. It's great to have a GPS tracker, Strava and other tools to see where I've been, how fast and whether I'm improving or not.

Next year I'm hoping to gain the Super Randonneur award and hopefully a RRTY (a ride of at least 200km every calendar month; 4 done, 8 to go!). Hopefully this will prepare me to do the same in 2015 to qualify for Paris-Brest-Paris - if I'm not fed up of cycling by then!

More importantly, I should end up with a prettier heat-map!

First DIY by GPS audax with added darkness challenge

2013-12-11T13:38:00+00:00

So, following my lessons from last time, I recently tried my first DIY by GPS audax.

A DIY by GPS is an audax that you plan yourself and validate with a .gpx file from your GPS. It can be handy if there are no convenient calendar audaxes nearby, or you missed one due to illness, as was the case for me. I'm trying to get one 200km audax in every month, so this is a good fall-back option that I can arrange with only a few days notice. If I can manage a 200k audax every month until August 2014, then I should get the RRTY award.

What went well

Food - Took plenty of variety and ate what I felt like eating. I felt pretty weak around the middle of the day (before and after lunch), but had a BLT, chocolate brownie, apple and restocked the water supply. Towards the end of the ride I did feel stronger and this may have been down to a decent, but not too heavy, lunch.
The DIY route basically worked - I did avoid one muddy lane (I also had the route in OruxMaps on my phone, so it only took a few mins to work out a simple detour). But generally nice views from the Westbury white horse and in the Cotswolds without too many main roads.

What went badly

Puncture after 3km - Unusually the front tyre went down. It was barely light and I considered pushing back to home and fixing in the relative comfort of the garage with the benefit of good light and a track pump. The roadside repair took longer than expected as the park tools self-adhesive patch (which had worked well on my hybrid a couple of weeks earlier), didn't stick. I think I needed to clean all the dust off the tube before sticking it on. It is also a bit harder on the narrow tube. Secondly, the Blackburn mini-pump is seriously hard work, even to reach my target 60psi. It was tricky getting the thorn out of the tyre with only my nails (I settled for scratching the sharp bit off), so I've since invested in a cheap pair of tweezers. The whole repair set me back by 50 mins.
GPS-related detour - When creating the route on either RideWithGPS or Bike Route Toaster, I must've mis-clicked, putting the route point a few hundred meters to the left of a crossroads, when I needed to go straight on. When zoomed out this detour isn't obvious, but was quite confusing on the road. I'm usually pretty alert when the GPS buzzes to tell me I'm off route, but in this case I had been on a straight road with no turn offs for the last few hundred meters and assumed it must be having trouble locking on. By the time I realised I had gone 1.5km, so lost 3km in all, with head-scratching time this was 10 mins. In future I will check the route in detail.
One of the worst stretches of missed-turnings.
Darkness-related detours. Due in part to the earlier delays, the last 3 hours of the ride were in darkness. I have lights for the bike, but the GPS backlight only stays on for a few seconds, so I couldn't see ahead of time where I should turn. Much of this part of the route was unfamiliar to me, so I had to rely on the GPS. Once I passed the junction, the GPS buzzed and I went back. In each case I probably only lost a few minutes, but I would guess it added up to about half an hour. I would use Bike Route Toaster's 100m warning track points, so I'd get a beep in advance of the turn, but on a 200km ride these are too numerous for the Edge 500 GPS and stop working around 130km. A possible solution would be to use a headtorch to see the GPS more regularly.

So it was a lot longer than anticipated (12 hours out of the house rather than 10), but an enjoyable ride and promptly validated by the local AUK DIY secretary. So I'm still on track for the Randoneé Round the Year.

Lessons Learnt from The Poor Student 200k Permanent

2013-11-22T21:20:00+00:00

My last audax was some four weeks ago. Since then I've done very little cycling, only the 2.5km to the station and back every day. I've intentionally taken a break from longer rides and the only other exercise I've done has been one badminton match and a half-hour swim.

Tomorrow I'm setting off on a 200k DIY by GPS, so now seems like a good time to review my lessons learnt from the previous ride. It seems that audaxing is as much about planning and strategy as it is about increasing fitness.

What went well?

Very few wrong turns. I didn't stray more than 100m from the route and paid attention when the GPS zapped me. I guess I lost less than 5 mins due to "navos".
Drank more water. Bought refills in Chipping Norton and Oxford. With the extra 18km each way to/from Malmesbury I needed this.
Got the clothing right. Was comfortable in Ronhill trousers all day. Waterproof jacket helped combat the cold when riding into the wind. What went badly?

Rear light batteries faded. As the first and last hours were in the dark I had the light on full-power steady mode, which apparently makes it easier for drivers to judge the distance you are away from them, even if they can't see anything besides the light. Once it was daylight I switched to flashing mode to get me noticed and save some battery. However, as I arrived home in the dark the light looked very dim, so not as effective as I'd like.
Saddle height. For some reason, perhaps when re-fitting my Carradice Bagman rack, I had put my saddle a fraction higher. I noticed this after about 120km when the front of my knees started to hurt. I didn't really twig what the problem was, but I had the tools to fix it, so probably should've stopped for 5 mins and sorted it out. On getting home the problem was obvious and I set it straight back to the bike-sizing number (707mm from crank-centre to saddle-top).
Pacing. In the cold and dark I tend to go a little faster than I should to keep warm. I unintentionally set Strava personal records on a couple of segments at the start on the way to Malmesbury. I think that usually means I'm going too fast.
Food. I packed 3 Clif and 2 Trek bars, 1 60ml SIS gel and a caramel and pumpkin seed flapjack.I bought some bananas from the Co-Op in Chipping Camden where I also scoffed a couple of pecan pastries, which were a bit dry and disappointing. The plan was to avoid the sugar until I really needed it. I knew I had a long day ahead, so I wanted to keep moving, even if I was a bit slow while eating. I'd tear open a chewy bar with my teeth and eat as I rode. I tried to do this on flatter sections, so that I wouldn't be breathing too hard and spray crumbs over the handlebars.Normally I enjoy the chewy bars. However, despite washing them down with water, the bars didn't go down well. Somewhere between Oxford and Malmesbury I had a pretty bad bonk. I felt lacking in energy, but too bloated to eat. After struggling for an hour or so, I reached for the single gel I had which seemed to be a near instant fix. The energy it gave me lasted maybe half an hour, but even after that I felt better. My rather unscientific guess is that I needed energy and oxygen to digest the food I was taking in. While I was riding, even at what I thought was a gentle pace, my stomach couldn't do its job. So the food wasn't getting processed and I felt bloated and weak. My hope is that by writing up the mistakes of last time immediately before my next big ride, I'll avoid making the same mistakes again. I intend to continue to do this with all my rides and maybe other things. So tomorrow, the food I've packed is:
4 gels
2 Clif bars
1 Trek bar
1 Clif shot block packet
A small resealable bag of walnuts, apricots and raisins (just what we had in the cupboard)
1 apple
2 bananas I hope that this combination will allow me to eat whatever I'm craving rather than feel I have to force down the stodge because that's all I've got. I'm also planning to stop for larger meals and have a gel in advance of a meal, just to give me the energy to digest it.

First 200k Audax

2013-09-26T11:40:00+01:00

Less than a mile done and already stopping for photos. Chepstow Castle and the river Wye.

[Last Saturday I completed my first 200k Audax - the Border Castles Randoneé from Chepstow. I can't say I found it easy, but then I did want a challenge.]

The start. All kinds of cyclists.

Shortly before 7:30, about 40 cyclists, including a couple on a tandem, gathered in the car park at Chepstow castle to collect their brevet cards. Many were having a last-minute breakfast, checking their tyres or chatting with acquaintances made on previous events. Some seemed fully-equipped for a week-long tour, others carried little more than a credit card. As the time limit allows for any average speed from 15 to 30kph (9-18mph), audax events encourage all kinds of riders - from boy-racers to beardy-weirdies - to take part. A few were obviously out as a group to get round as fast as possible, others planned to take it easy and enjoy the countryside. I was just hoping to complete the course. I had in my mind a target average speed of 20kph (12mph), which would get me back at 17:30. I'd brought lights and warm clothing in case that didn't work out. Even optimists should be prepared.]

The route had been recommended to me by a colleague who is an experienced audaxer. He and his clubmates set off in the first group and must've been making a good pace as I didn't see them again.

After some obsessive check and re-checking of my kit, I clipped the first routesheet to the bars, started my GPS and set off. Before long I managed to catch up with a group who were going about my pace. I had intended to travel with a group as much as possible. This was partly to be sociable (and nosey looking at other people's bikes and kit), but also for the benefits of drafting, which I'd experienced during club training around Castle Coombe circuit recently. Depending on whom you ask, you can save 20-40% of your effort by cycling in a group. Everyone takes turns leading, but spends most of their time sheltering out of the wind. Even the leader gets a small boost from those behind interrupting the vacuum that usually attaches to a rider's rear end.]

A not too fast, not too slow group.

On the other hand, on a long ride there's something to be said for going at your own pace. If I had tried to keep with the fastest groups I probably would've flagged mid-ride and risked having to give up or take a long rest. Gradually the group I was in spread out as different people climbed and descended at different rates. I'd see many of the same people again at the cafe control in Ross-on-Wye, but for now the lanes became quieter.

Navigating became a full-time job. I could no longer rely on the democratic opinion of some ten other riders, some of whom had done the route in previous years. The routesheet was sparse on directions in order to fit onto a single sheet of A4, so often included instructions like, "...Lanes to Stockton...". However, combined with the Garmin Edge 500's basic satnav directions I stayed mostly on track. I did take two wrong turns and failed to realise before travelling a km or two. The GPS does beep and say "off course" when you go wrong, but it can do this occasionally anyway, when under trees or if a bend in the road isn't exactly where the map says it should be. I was annoyed to have added an unnecessary 4km to my final distance, but felt better when I discovered that others had made similar blunders. Later, one audaxer admitted that in a previous event he'd done an extra 32km (20miles) through poor navigation.

Funny, that's how my legs feel.

At the second control I got my brevet card signed and had a light lunch consisting of a flapjack and fruit juice. I'd been munching Trek and Clif bars along the way, as well as the occasional blackberry from the hedges, so didn't feel like anything more. When touring in mainland Europe with Erica, we'd learnt to avoid tempting big lunches when we hoped to get going again soon. A baguette and ice cream once slowed us to an uncomfortable crawl for a couple of hours.

What I didn't do, however, was to ask for a water bottle refill. Like most people, I only carry two 750ml (1.5 pint) water bottles or bidons and as I'd only got through one in the morning, I thought I could get to the next control on the other. However, the afternoon was warmer and although I wasn't really thirsty, I think I would've felt stronger being fully hydrated. Most controls seem to be pretty good about giving out tap water, especially if you're buying something else, and I really should've taken the opportunity.

At 160km, a pub is a welcome sight. Notice the angelic glow from above.

60km and nearly three hours later I reached The Angel, an attractive pub in Grosmont and the next control. I downed a pint of lemonade and got the much-needed bottle refill before heading off to find out whether Whitecastle had a moat or not. That was the next "information control" - a proof of passage in the form of a question on the Brevet card that you don't discover until the day.

I felt I was making good progress, but with 50km to go, the big hills returned. Normally I enjoy hills, but I found it hard to keep the pedals turning on this section of the ride. My strategy is normally to avoid getting out of the saddle if at all possible, but my legs were feeling weak and even in my lowest gear (34 & 29) I was forced to stand up. I think part of the reason this provides relief is that you use some different muscles when climbing out of the saddle. Even if it's not sustainable for very long, the change is a good thing.

Eventually, as we reached the summit we were rewarded with some stunning scenary. The sunlit Usk valley on our right and Raglan castle later on the left. Finally, the long descent into Chepstow provided a welcome breeze to cool down.

Finished. A bit of helmet-hair, but otherwise OK.

Almost ten hours after I'd set off, with in total about an hour of rest, I had made it. I was tired, but really happy to have finished without too much trouble. I was also pleased that the bike had done everything I'd asked of it without complaint. Hopefully, if I'm good about maintenance, it will continue to do so.

I will admit that I was surprised how hard I'd found the last third of the ride. As practice, I'd done a hilly 188km ride two weeks earlier, including Bathford's Prospect Place hill - briefly a 33% gradient. I'd thought that would prepare me. Nothing in the Border Castles was quite so steep, but I had found it harder. I could put this down to simply having good days or bad days, but I suspect the reason may be hydration, or lack of it. This may have affected my ability to absorb the extra carbohydrate I was consuming and made the legs more achy than usual.

On my next big ride I'll aim to drink at least 500ml (two-thirds of a bottle) per hour. This will probably mean more stops and damper hedgerows, but should make me faster overall.

Full recorded route from Strava.com, along with my stats. Note the minor "detours" near Leominster.

The other thing I must improve is navigation. I had the routesheets and my GPS and when it said I was off route, I should've stopped sooner to check my position (possibly on my phone). This probably would've saved me some 15 minutes overall, but it would've been worse if I'd taken a wrong turn down a steep hill.

So what's next? Well, my first BR has given me the confidence to do some even longer distances, so I'm aiming to gain the Super Randonneur award next year. That's a 200km, 300km, 400km and 600km rides within one Oct-Oct season. It will be a challenge, and I'm not sure yet whether I can do it, which is part of the fun. Hopefully now I've told people I'll be less likely to give up.

Cycling a bit further

2013-09-06T12:45:00+01:00

Tomorrow I'm planning to ride 177.5km (109mi). Further than I've ever cycled before.

But only by a bit.

It's a local route that I've planned myself. The idea is get some training for the Audax I'm riding from Chepstow in two weeks time.

Tomorrow's planned route. 177.5km (109 miles) and 2670m climbing.

As the Chepstow event is designated a "Grimpeur" with 3 AAA points it will be hilly. I like hills, but I want to feel prepared for climbing them all day long, so that's what I'll do tomorrow.

Despite having done a lot of touring cycling in years gone by, I've only regained a serious interest in cycling in the past couple of years.

Two years ago there's no way I could have done this.

Two years ago 24km (15 miles) was a struggle which left me feeling tired and wobbly for a day or two.

Gradual improvement

Increasing the distance I could cycle took some effort, but the technique wasn't exactly rocket surgery. Typically though, I did do some geek-research on the Internet. There's a lot of technical training ideas if you want to take things very seriously, but thankfully the TL;DR seems to gybe with common sense:

Go out and ride your bike
Rest well
Eat well and healthily
Repeat, gradually increasing the ride length

I started last winter by cycling to work and back on a weekly basis. Twenty-four hilly kilometres each way - enough to improve my fitness. It was hard at first, but got easier each week. I saw the sun rise over frosty fields on winter mornings and (after a shower and change of clothes) arrived at work feeling alert and enthusiastic, like I'd already had an adventure.

At least once a month I'd try to get out for a longer ride, starting around 50km last Autumn and increasing slowly that to 120km by June this year.

I also I entered some longer Sportives - 100km (60mi) in February and March, moving up to 160km (100mi) at the end of June. Sportives are a nice way to start out doing longer distances as they usually come complete with feed stations to provide snacks and drinks and a "broom wagon" to sweep up any riders who have to pull out due to mechanical failures or injury. As a result, Sportives are more expensive than more minimalist Audax rides - typically £25 compared with £3 - £10 for Audaxes.

In August I did my first ever Audax ride - The 100km Blackmoor Tour starting near Salisbury. This gave me an understanding of the Audax format and some practice following route sheets (in addition to the GPS) as well as knowing what to do at the controls. It was also quite sociable and took in some beautiful countryside, even if my phone's camera can't do it justice.

View from near the highest point on the Blackmoor Tour audax.

The Blackmoor tour was a BP "Brevet Populaire" at less than 200km. Other BP events start as short as 50km (31mi), so there's something for most people to aim for. All UK Audax events are listed on the AUK Calendar and can be entered (for a small fee) by anyone.

In the last month I've had some great tandem rides with Erica around Shropshire and a sportive in North Wales, which set a record distance for us on the tandem 141km (89mi) and my highest ever top speed on a bike, 75.5kph (46.5mph). Thanks to the in-laws for baby-sitting!

I've also been out about once a week in the evening for a quick sprint or hill-climb, which I'm told helps improve overall speed.

So that's my informal, retrospective training plan.

In two weeks I'll see if it's enough to get me around the 200km Border Castles Randoneé from Chepstow.

Fixing a broken monitor

2013-08-29T12:18:00+01:00

I love fixing things! Well, I do when it works.

A couple of years ago I tried in vain to mend our electric shower which was cutting out due to lime scale build-up causing the element to overheat. I spent two hours unscrewing the unit, pouring vinegar into the various orifices and shaking vigorously. Plenty of scale fell out, but sadly on reassembly it gurgled and dribbled, but didn't, well, shower. At the time it seemed worth a try, but I've learnt that showers are pretty complicated and fiddly to fix.

However, monitors are a different challenge. Earlier this year my second monitor, a Viewsonic VX912, failed. It started blinking on and off and after a while was mostly off, making it unusable. Getting by on one is OK, but slows me down quite a bit if I'm doing anything beyond simple web browsing or email-writing. I've had the screen for at least 8 years, so there was no chance of warranty fix/replacement. It would be nice if electronics was made to last a bit longer than single-digit years, but I guess manufacturers would like regular sales and consumers are often keen for an excuse to get the latest model. That thought crossed my mind; I was tempted to use this as an excuse to splash out on a new and higher-res model, but I also wondered if it might be fixable.

A quick Google shows plenty of articles and videos explaining how to fix monitors with the most common failure - blown capacitors. A capacitor is a simple electronic component which stores charge. They are used for timing circuits and smoothing out voltage irregularities. Along with resistors and transistors, they're in almost every electronic device. When blown, cylindrical capacitors often show a bulging top and sometimes even leaking fluid - which I hear is nasty stuff and best avoided.

So, curious to see whether I could spot any "popped caps", I unscrewed and prized apart the plastic clips on the back of the monitor. A few more screws to remove the metal back plate revealed this:

The cream-coloured board on the left is the power board (you can tell because the power lead socket is attached to it) and is often the source of such problems. The one on the right processes the inputs and connects to the display and front control panel. The capacitors are the black cylinders with silver ends, there's also a large one sideways-on in the middle of the power board.

I checked all these carefully and found that there were indeed 4 of them "blown". You can just about see how the ends are bulging in the next photo.

I'm reassured that the brown "goo" at the base is not in fact the toxic fluid leaking, but a glue used when machine-soldering the parts in.

I found 4 blown capacitors of 3 different types. I'll skip the details, but the repair took about an hour and cost me about £7 for the new capacitors via Amazon. The monitor is now working normally again and hopefully will do many years more service.

Easy when you know how

It's worth noting that I didn't use much intelligence in this process. Although I studied electronics at school, I didn't need any specialist knowledge to fix the monitor. OK, I do know how to solder, but this is probably easier than sewing, just with more chance of burning yourself. I don't know exactly what the capacitors in question do and my diagnosis was limited to finding the ones which were bulging on the top. Had I done more research or had more knowledge, then maybe I could've swapped the capacitors for more robust or efficient ones. However, this would have required much more time and effort and probably required the manufacturer's confidential circuit designs.

I've always been annoyed by waste and "disposable" electronics is an egregious example. I heard that a recent study showed a large proportion of discarded electronics could be simply and economically fixed. The researcher found many microwaves with nothing more than a broken fuse. Currently, electronics made in the far east, possibly under inhumane conditions, is far cheaper than the time of a local expert. This may change with global economics and as transport costs rise.

I saved myself perhaps £150 for a new monitor, but more importantly I had the satisfaction of fixing it myself, which is a great feeling. It's also good for the environment, as the old monitor would have to be disposed of and electronic waste contains toxic chemicals making the problem trickier. Plus a new monitor would've had a far larger embedded carbon footprint than the small components I bought.

I'd encourage anyone with some broken electronics to have a good read through some of the many articles and videos on the web or see the dedicated IFixit website and get stuck in to fixing it yourself.

If it's destined for landfill anyway, you've got little to lose by trying.]

EDIT: The intermittent fault returned and despite further tweaking, this monitor is no more!

Minor upgrades and tweaks

2013-08-09T20:25:00+01:00

Having ridden the "new" bike for about 1000 kilometres now, I've made a few changes, mostly for comfort and convenience, whilst adding weight. I think many cyclists get too obsessed about weight and forget that they don't have a dedicated team with a van full of spares to replace flimsy components the moment they break.

Spot the differences...

[Yes, for the same effort, heavier bikes go slower up hills and are slower to accelerate, but being in pain or having mechanical failures is also slow.]

Nothing I've done is permanent, so if I want to do a sprint up a hill in a foolish attempt to beat some Strava record, I can convert it back to lightweight mode.

Keeping clean

As I'd always planned, the first thing was to add mudguards. I'm not a fair-weather rider and in this country you don't get much riding done if you are. If you're just dashing out for an hour, then getting wet isn't a big deal, but on a longer ride having the bike, luggage and yourself blasted with muddy, gritty water gets a bit tiresome. Secondly, I'm now doing a bit more riding in groups and I think it's far more friendly to the rider behind if your rear wheel isn't behaving like an angry skunk. I got SKS Bluemels (almost all mudguards seem to be made by SKS). They're pretty narrow and will fit a tyre up to 28mm. I think they look fine.

Weight added: \~500g

Head space

Two 10mm spacers under the stem. Reflective tape on the bar.

On the Chiltern 100 I'd suffered a bit from sore and numb hands. I already have well padded gloves and plenty of hand positions. Another cycling blogger has suggested raising the bars to take some of the weight off the hands. Fortunately the guy who built my bike left enough stem for two spacers and had placed the stem diplomatically between them. Moving the bars up was a fairly simple job which I made more difficult by not using the top-cap to clamp down before fixing the stem on. For a day or so I was riding around with a wobbly fork. Many thanks to cycling's late guru, Sheldon Brown for putting me right.

The new height seems to help my hand comfort while making me slightly less aerodynamic. I'm not sure this effect will be significant however, as I'm now able to get down onto the drops for longer periods, which can only be a good thing.

You can also see from the picture above that I've added a small band of reflective tape to the front of the handlebar tops. While I'll be using a light at night, this may add a little to my visibility and as I don't have another front reflector, might even be a legal requirement.

Weight added: Negligible

Contact point

Initially I'd put a Charge Spoon saddle on the bike and for £25 this is an extremely popular perch. It has a simple design that is comfortable for all but the longest rides. The Spoon now lives on my commuter hybrid which does about 70km a week.

Tempted by a real leather Brooks saddle (An old British company, now Italian owned), I was torn between the popular B17 and the pricier, more sporty, Swift. I'd read a ton of reviews each with slightly differing opinions. Many long distance riders rave about Brooks saddles, others curse them. Saddles are quite a personal choice, so reviews are of limited value and you don't really know until you try.

When I got a small bonus for work I splashed out on the Swift. With titanium rails. For £150. Gulp! I hope it's comfortable.

Leather saddles apparently need "breaking in", although I suspect it is rather the owners' backsides that are broken in. For some this process was long and painful but ultimately worth it, for others they were comfortable from day one. Thankfully I seem to have fallen into the latter category. The saddle is possibly a bit firm at the front when I'm leaning forwards, but otherwise it's the best saddle I've sat on. At first it was a bit strange how smooth and slippery it is, but now I've tilted it back a little I'm no longer sliding forwards, which means reduced hand pressure on the bars pushing myself back.

Weigth added: 100g

Storage space

Audax riding traditionally involves a philosophy of self-sufficiency. Being cheaper than Sportives, feed stations and broom wagons aren't included. If the bike breaks down you have to fix it yourself or rely on the goodwill of other cyclists, if there are any nearby. So most riders take kit to deal with a few punctures and even tyre failure, food for the journey and enough spare clothing to allow for changes in temperature that occur when riding for many hours at a time. This means more storage space than the average under-the-saddle bag allows.

A popular solution, especially amongst British audax riders is a Carradice saddle bag (still not sure how to pronounce Carradice... "carra-diss" as in "cowardice" or "carra-dice" - as in the plural of die)?

Carradice Super-C audax, or is that Carradiss?

The one you see to the right is the Super-C audax - one of the smallest options at 9 Litres and 580g. It's made in Lancashire out of a hard-wearing and waterproof cotton "duck".

I've coupled it with the "bagman2 sport" rack which stops it from swinging around and bashing the back of my legs. This allows quick removal of the bag for nipping into a shop and adds another 380g.

I've also added a Deuter tri-bag to the top tube which is easily accessible when riding, so it's a great place to keep the route sheet or snacks and is the only place the mobile phone can be heard over the wind.

Weight added: \~1kg

Wider tyre

Finally, I've experimentally swapped the rear tyre from a Continental GP4000S in 25mm for the GP 4 Seasons in 28mm. This should be more puncture-resistant, hard-wearing and more comfortable. After a short ride I can confirm that it soaks up the bumps without a noticeable speed penalty - I got a personal record up a nearby hill. As winter approaches I'll consider putting another of these on the front wheel for better grip in cold and wet conditions.

Weight added: 20g

So I've added a couple of kilograms (plus the content of my bag), but I think this will increase the practicality and range without feeling like a fully-laden tourer.

It remains to be seen whether my lowest gear (34 front, 29 rear) is still enough to get me up the steepest hills.

Your passwords aren't good enough

2013-06-21T18:43:00+01:00

In 2009 a list of 32 million plain text passwords was exposed for the online games service RockYou.com.

So what? You probably weren't signed up to RockYou.com, so why should you care?

It should go without saying that your passwords are valuable to criminals, either directly for identity theft, or as part of a large collection of compromised accounts that can be misused en masse in more subtle ways.

OK, but these were other people's passwords, so why is it a problem?

Firstly, this huge list helps password crackers to guess what kinds of passwords people use. Secondly it showed that most people's passwords are rubbish. By rubbish I mean that they can easily be cracked. Most of the passwords were short, contained common words and many them were not unique, meaning that they were so obvious that more than one person had chosen the exact same password.

Other leaks involving high-profile sites like Yahoo! and LinkedIn contained "hashed" passwords. These can only be transformed into plain-text by repeatedly trying possible passwords. A human wouldn't get very far with this, but computers excel at the task. What's more, password cracking technology has been advancing apace, with expensive, yet home-made, machines able to try 6.2 billion passwords a second. This kind of "brute-force" approach resulted in many of those leaked hashed passwords being cracked, leaving the accounts at the mercy of the crackers.

Worse, many LinkedIn and Yahoo! users had been using the same password on multiple sites, meaning that when the leak occurred they had to hurriedly change all their passwords.

What can a careful Internet user do?

We can't control the security measures used by all the websites and services we use. In most cases we probably can't even assess if their procedures are good enough.

What we can do is limit the potential damage. There are a few ways to do this:

Use a unique password for every website you visit.
Use strong passwords that are difficult to guess, even with powerful computers.
Change passwords if you think yours might have been compromised, e.g.: after using any untrusted networks (wireless or otherwise).

A strong password: - Is at least ten characters long - Contains only a randomly-generated combination of mixed-case letters, numbers and punctuation. (If you need to enter the password on a smart phone, it may be best to make it a little longer, but avoid some punctuation like curly brackets).

More advice on good passwords from McAfee.

But strong passwords are hard to remember!

If remembering lots of really tough passwords sounds a bit of a pain, I have some suggestions to make it easier.

Firstly there are a number of free applications available which make creating and storing your passwords simple and secure.

For example, KeePassX will run on Windows, MacOS X, Linux or a smart phone. When visiting a website you can simple copy and paste your unique, long, super-secure password from your encrypted KeePassX database into the website without having to remember it. I also use it to store personal details like my National Insurance and passport numbers.

You'll need to take the small file with you or have it shared on a cloud-service such as Dropbox. Remember that this file is encrypted, so while you shouldn't make it public, it will still be pretty secure should ne’er-do-wells get hold of it.

Your encrypted database can be secured in a number of ways. Firstly, a key file (perhaps kept on a USB stick or CD), a really strong password, or both.

So you still need to employ the grey cells to keep your information safe. Yes, but remembering one strong password is easier than remembering fifty. If you still find this impossible, it's probably better to write it down somewhere inconspicuous rather than resort to a weak password you can remember. Most password cracking attempts come from online sources rather than the people around you.

So writing "*9.-Xhd5u\@y" in the back of your diary is probably more secure than having "Bicycle2" only in your head.

An alternative to passwords

If that still sounds too hard, you may appreciate the suggestion of the sometimes-serious webcomic XKCD, which suggested "pass-phrases". Four randomly-chosen words are easier to remember and harder for a computer to guess than a medium-length string of random characters. XKCD's example was:

correct horse battery staple

But as long as the words really are random, it's a good pass-phrase. So no song lyrics or famous quotes! You can bet they'll be in the crackers' lists.

After what I've read on this subject I'm in the process of improving all my passwords. I encourage you to do the same!

The dandy-horse has arrived

2013-04-28T21:26:00+01:00

Never been ridden

My long awaited sportive/audax road bike arrived on Friday. After a late night putting it all together (and hunting for a T25 Torx driver), here it is, ready to ride.

Cheapo bars with Chris King headset, Shimano brakes and Continental GP 4000S tyres.

11 speed, 12-29 Campagnolo Chorus Cassette

I've ridden it a couple of times and I'm impressed. It's smooth, comfortable and when I stand up on the pedals, accelerates better than I expected.

Burls 3AL2.5V Titanium

When I got on the bike this morning, strangely it didn't feel like I was sitting on a bike. There was none of the familiar saddle-soreness or shoulder aches. It felt more like running, more instinctive, more natural. I guess this is because being custom-made it simply fits.

My performance on my favourite 3 hills route was average, but I'm fairly sure that is down to my current lack of fitness and the couple of times the chain fell off due to my inadequate gear set up. More tweaking and more training required!

Making space in the stable

2013-04-19T20:45:00+01:00

With the anticipated arrival now imminent, I need to make some space in the Bradbury bicycle stable. The n+1 rule assumes a sufficiently-large space in which to store the bikes. Ours is a single garage which already contains boat spares, a pushchair and several bicycles. So one of the bikes has to go, but which one?

I don't want to part with my Marin San Anselmo hybrid with which I crossed Australia in 2000. It's still an excellent city commuting bike, capable of carrying some luggage or even Sasha in a child seat. The tandem almost feels like one of the family and has plenty of family outings, fun events and touring in its future.

Interesting parking somewhere in Ireland.

Which leaves the Emmelle Radical 18 speed. A red HiTens steel MTB which was probably less than £100 new circa 1993. It weighs nearly 15kg. I can't find any reference to it on the web, not even in BikePedia. I think my Dad got it along with several others as part of some special offer.

It must've been my first adult bike and I've certainly got some good use out of it. I spent much of my teenage years on this bike, exploring South Bucks and learning my way around without a map. I rarely went more than 20 miles, but it gave me a sense of freedom and a love of cycling. In 1998 I fitted some slick tyres and took it around the Republic of Ireland, a task the Emmelle handled admirably in spite of the sometimes interesting parking.

In 2010, after several years of neglect I added MTB mudguards, new brake blocks and a D-lock bracket making a handy all-weather commuter bike. It's still not a desirable machine - the paint is chipped, it's nearly impossible to shift into the smallest chainring and the bottom bracket creaks and clunks under pressure. But despite its ageing looks and worn components, it made a comfortable and reliable bike that was fast enough when I was running late for the train, which was often.

Reliable commuter ready for retirement.

Perhaps against the odds, I enjoyed riding it. One of the main reasons for this, I believe, is that it fits me. One thing I've learnt in my recent research for my new road bike is that bicycle fit can make all the difference in comfort and efficiency.

So today I donated the Emmelle MTB to The Bath Bike Workshop, which services, refurbishes and sells bikes with all proceeds going to Bath's Julian House homeless charity.

So I'll be sorry to see it go, but I hope that it will be reincarnated in some form and enjoyed by someone else.

Bicycle ordered

2013-03-28T22:24:00+00:00

I've ordered a new bike; my first in over thirteen years - the tandem doesn't count, that's Erica's. :-)

It will be the first bike I'll own with drop handlebars. It's designed to go well on the road and be comfortable over long distances. Although I've become very keen on cycling lately, I don't intend to buy myself new bikes very often, maybe never again. I hope to still be riding this one when I retire. For these reasons I went to some trouble trying to get it right. Despite having done a fair bit of cycling over the years, I've haven't got really geeky about bikes until recently.

I've gone for a custom-built titanium frame by independent Harwich-based frame-builder Justin Burls. He designs the frames to customer specification, which are then built in Russia by titanium professionals trained in the aerospace industry.

So I've spent quite a lot for someone who's still really a casual cyclist, but you could easily cough up far more in any high-street store for a bike that probably wouldn't last as long. It wasn't strictly necessary for me to go for a custom frame, as I'm not an especially unusual weight/build. Once you consider titanium, however, the price for custom and off-the-shelf is similar, so I chose patience and (hopefully) perfection.

I always like to know what I'm buying, in fact I think it's half the fun, so over the past 5 months I've been doing some serious geeking-up on all things bike. I've chosen every part of the bike and I think I've made good decisions and compromises, going for cheaper components in places that I might change after trying them out for a while, such as the stem and handlebars. However, I won't really know until I ride it. For that, I have to wait until mid-April.

Specification

Burls titanium frame (3AL-2.5V tubes with 6AL-4V for head tube, dropouts and BB shell)
Kinesis DC07 carbon fork with alloy steerer
American Classic Sprint 350 wheels
Campagnolo Athena Chainset (Compact double with 12-29 cassette for easy hill-climbing)
Shimano Tiagra R451 dual pivot caliper brakes
Chris King headset
Basic carbon seat post
Basic alloy handlebars (40cm wide, compact drop)
Shimano "touring" SPD pedals
Continental 4000S 700x25C tyres (frame allows up to 28mm with mudguards)
SKS Blumel narrow road mudguards
Charge Spoon saddle
Elite Taki budget plastic bottle cages
Rear rack possible, but not fitted

Everyone is wrong about birthdays

2013-03-26T21:51:00+00:00

It occurred to me about a year ago that the English-speaking world is counting birthdays wrongly.

On the day that a person turns one year old, most of us are in the habit of saying that it's their first birthday.

This is wrong.

Surely their first birthday was when they were born and were only a few seconds old. If that isn't a birthday, I don't know what is. When my daughter turned one year old I didn't be make a fuss if anyone calls it her first birthday, but I admit that when she was born I was pedantic enough to wish her happy birthday.

On the other hand, perhaps it's not our counting that is wrong but the word birthday. The French use Anniversaire, which, like a wedding anniversary, doesn't include the initial event.

James Thinks

Board game review: Daybreak

Look and feel

Game mechanics

Strategy

Climate education

Conclusion

Global temperatures and reduced atmospheric aerosols

2023 - The warmest year on record, especially the oceans

The effect of suplate aerosol masking

What are the consequences?

What have we learned?

Living with an air-source heat pump

What is a heat pump?

What kinds of heat pumps are there?

Our experience of an air-source heat pump

Installation

Performance & Economy

Cost of running in February 2023 was slightly higher than January 2023

Energy and carbon emissions

Thermal comfort

Domestic hot water

Getting off gas

Noise

Other features

Conclusion

Should we stop cyclists from wearing black?

Not black and white

Where responsibility lies

We don't criticise people for driving black cars

Don't exaggerate the dangers

In the long run vicitim-blaming doesn't improve safety

Social action: Voluntary or mandatory

What is the difference between taxation and charity?

This is about the environment, right?

My experience of the Trans Pyrenees Race No. 2

Journey to the start

Setting off into the rain

The Southern route

Reasons for slow progress

A big push for CP4

Take it easy, but not too easy

Another col, another world

Making progress

Race to the finish

Rest and recovery

TPRNo2 Mediterranean to finish plan

Back to the mountains

Parcours 6

Pacing

TPRNo2 CP3 to Mediterranean coast route plan

CP3 to CP4

Probably the last big route dilemma

To Coustouges

To Parcours5

TPRNo2 day two route plan

Parcours2

Route dilemma

To Sort

Second route dilemma

CP3 - Os de Civis

TPRNo2 day one route plan

Start Parcours

CP1

CP1 to Parcours2

My Kit List for Trans Pyrenees Race No. 2

All the kit on the bike

Aerobar dry bag

Blackburn top tube bag

Apidura top tube bag, mounted against seatpost

Apirdura frame bag

Apidura expedition saddle bag, 14L

Topeak bottle cage repair kit, mounted below downtube

Other kit stored on bike or self

What is the Trans Pyrenees Race?

What is the Trans Pyrenees Race?

What are the rules?

Why am I riding it?

What is your strategy?

Where do you hope to finish?