Going the distance

Last Saturday, a group of Femme Pédalers and friends set off on a 75 mile jaunt from Birmingham to Oxford. For some of us, this was a relaxing amble in the countryside, and others (ahem, me) quite a long way to go in one day; all of us had a great time. I'm pretty new to cycling distances of more than about 30 miles in one go, and have learned some pretty useful lessons this summer about how to stay happy on long rides. Here's what I've gathered, along with some photos of our day out.

• Make sure your bike's ready to go; it doesn't need to be super expensive or have lots of bells and whistles so long as it's in good condition. Our friend Jane did 35 miles of the ride with us on a stylish but heavy old three-speed Raleigh, which goes to show that it's not what's between your legs, but what you do with it that counts. Before you leave, do a quick M-check, making sure that everything's in good working order and well oiled, and pump your tires up.
• Get a backpack or pannier, and make sure you've got a pump and spare inner tube (tool-wise, a decent multi-tool might also come in handy), a waterproof, a a jumper, and a small first aid kit.
• Plan a route: I like ordinance survey maps, the Sustrans site, and the Cyclestreets journey planner, but a standard road atlas will do the trick. If you stick to country back roads, you'll be able to enjoy joyous car-free miles. Stay flexible, and don't mind too much about getting lost. It's also useful to note if there are train stations at various points, in case you need an escape route.
• Get ready! Have a decent meal and limit your alcohol intake the night before setting out and try and get a good night's sleep. A couple of Saturday's riders came out on three hours sleep, and didn't seem to appreciate the early start as much as some of us did.
• Get dressed! Comfy clothes and trainers, with no flowing, loose bits that can get caught in chains and brakes are best; pay special attention to make sure that there's nothing that will cause discomfort to your bum and crotch a few miles down the line (see Nan's useful post on the subject), and at least consider padded shorts.
• Get fed! Don't eat loads just before or during the ride- it'll make you sluggish and crampy. Make sure you've got lots of small snacks which release energy slowly; bananas, nuts, oatcakes and so on. Flapjacks are always a hot favorite.
• Drink. Make sure you're carrying enough water, and remember to stay hydrated.
• Choose a pace that suits you, and that you can maintain. If you need to get off and walk on hills, do it.
• Enjoy yourself. Stop off at interesting places (half way, we hit Hook Norton brewery, found out how they make some of our favorite beer, and had a tasting session) and see new bits of countryside. Don't stress if you get wet, muddy, or lost; you'll make it home in the end, and the hot shower will be that little bit more pleasurable.

DIY Bike worshops in Canada

During a visit to Montreal and Toronto in January-February of this year, I took the opportunity to visit some of the various well-established bicycle coops and projects dotted around both cities. This was such an inspiring experience from the point of view of someone interested in setting up similar projects in Europe that I’d like to share some of the things I saw and advice I heard.

Montreal

Cycle culture is vibrant in this city which boasts several thriving bike courrier companies, N. America’s first city bike rental scheme (they take them away in the winter to stop them getting buried in the snow) and around ten DIY bike co-ops. In the car park of Concordia University in downtown Montreal, there is a hidden-away but thriving hub of not-for-profit bike repair. Like many places in the city, it has a dual identity: Right to Ride or La Voie Libre, and is a project partly funded by the university. It opens its doors every evening during the week and longer hours on weekends.

Toronto

Ontario’s biggest city is also a hub for the not-for-profit bike sector, and while there I was able to visit one well-established co-op and one which is just starting up.

Bike Pirates were running their women and transsexual Sunday workshop session when I called in. The spacious and well-ordered interior of their workshop nonetheless manages to feel homely, with plenty of posters, slogans and artwork on the walls, as well as a cosy kitchen at the back. Colour-coded tool boards surround the half a dozen work stands, with useful hand-painted displays about various aspects of bike mechanics placed here and there. Cup of tea in hand, I put a few questions to Ainsley about how the project was run. Once again, it relies entirely on volunteers and at the minute there are only two of them, dividing up the week’s shifts between them. The project makes enough money to buy parts and pay the rent – that’s it. Opening hours and attendance are drastically reduced in winter, but not everyone is put off by the snow and ice: the much anticipated yearly I-cycle was scheduled for the following weekend, where hundreds come to watch intrepid cyclists do laps of an ice rink on wheels. Bike Pirates is part of a lively cycle culture and lifestyle in the city; it’s not just about fixing bikes, but also riding them, growing things and eating together (they have a communal garden and often cook for everyone at the workshop sessions).

An organic outgrowth of Bike Pirates, Bike Sauce spent a few years in the pipeline and moved into new premises – a former funeral home in East Toronto – last Spring. Once again, the space is well laid out, with plenty of room for work stands and tools sensibly placed and labelled all around the room. Anibal, one of the founders, was happy to down tools and explain the technicalities of setting up the project over a cup of coffee. Making it clear from the beginning to local bike shops that you’re not competition is really important, he says. As he pointed out, the DIY sector is not taking money away from bike shops, which make most of their money from sales of new bikes and repairs for those who are not interested in learning about fixing their own bike. Setting up a good relationship with local bike shops from the beginning is vital – they achieved this by going round to introduce themselves, with a business card explaining briefly what they’re doing. This way bike shops know who you are and what you do, plus they have your number on hand, so will happily pass you on unwanted parts rather than dump them. Bike Sauce began advertising themselves and gathering parts and tools long before they actually had a dedicated workspace: they stocked things and worked out of a member’s garage in the meantime. Anibal is wary of government grants and from the beginning wanted Bike Sauce to be able to generate the cash it needs for survival through its own activities, rather than growing complacent (and being accountable to the city or the government) on grant funding. This seems to be working, though the real test will be the bike sales in Spring, which is just around the corner. If you come in to repair your bike, rather than paying a yearly membership or a flat rate for a session, Bike Sauce ask for a donation each time you come in: as much or as little as you can afford. Your time is also valuable: you could volunteer at a repair session or come to a bike build, where salvaged bikes are repaired for sale.

Even with such a proliferation of not-for-profit bike projects in Montréal and Toronto, cycle culture remains marginal in Canada as is the rest of the world. In some ways this is a blessing: it allows for the creation of vibrant sub-cultures based around a common marginalised passion and it allows cyclists to remain radical, outside the establishment, to question the status quo. Even if Bike Sauce could have benefitted from funding, Anibal was against it, preferring to remain free, not wanting to be bought. In a world still so dominated by the capitalist ethic, it is nigh-on impossible to set up a successful project whilst remaining outside the money-making rat race. These projects exist, yet they struggle; they are barnacles [1] on the great sick ship of capitalism. Some projects rely on outside organisations for survival; Right to Ride needs Concordia University’s space, funding and goodwill. Others like Bike Sauce, have deliberately chosen to remain outside this. The not-for-profit bike repair movement will never interest investors; but it is a growing force questioning the values by which we judge societal worth. When everything else grinds to a halt, one thing is for sure; bicycle wheels will still be turning.

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[1] Alternative use of term ‘Barnacles’: the Bike Pirates’ term for people who turn up expecting help to fix their bike, sucking energy and not putting much back into the project