I do actually ride my bike(s), you
know. I have even conspired to form a
number of specific routes. There’s the
one that takes me into Richmond, along Sheen Road through Sheen itself, to
Putney Bridge by way of Barnes, across the river, then left down Fulham Palace
Road at the end of which I cut through Hammersmith and join Chiswick High Road
and then head back home via Kew. It’s
about a 13 mile journey but can be easily extended by taking a diversion
through the heart of Fulham and then across to High Street Kensington. Without the deviation I will stop for coffee
somewhere in Chiswick. When the detour features I take my coffee at Nero (which has pictures on the walls of people drinking coffee for you to look at while you're drinking coffee) next
to Boots Chemist on Kensington High Street – for some reason I like it there.
I
have formed another course which takes me in the opposite direction, away from
the city: through Twickenham, out along Staines Road, down towards Hampton and
Thames Ditton, stopping off in Kingston before heading home via Ham and
Richmond. I prefer to traverse this
route when the weather is more agreeable, for its suburban backdrop doesn't
suffer overcast conditions gladly. I
have devised other courses but they tend to be variations on the
aforementioned routes. For example, the
Chiswick Circuit may bypass Putney entirely and makes its way towards
Hammersmith by slicing through Barnes Common and taking Castelnau Road (a.k.a.
the A306) towards Hammersmith Bridge. I
can’t imagine that this saves much more than half of a mile and Castelnau Road
is such a bore of an avenue that I don’t know why I even occasionally bother with
this collinear bypass.
In the run-in to Christmas I
established a new route of approximately 17 miles and with a few tough climbs
thrown in. I haven’t based any these
circuits on specific cycling requirements, and they’re more likely to be determined
by something else I have to do or, more specifically, somewhere I want to
go. I think the Wimbledon Circuit was originally
informed by the presence of a Debenhams and a TK Maxx there, but you really
shouldn't read too much into that.
So the Wimbledon beat forces me
up Richmond Hill, back down through the other side of Richmond Park, then
around Wimbledon Common by way of the A3, before joining Coombe Lane, passing
through Raynes Park and then on to Wimbledon. The first time I rode this circuit I stopped for coffee on Wimbledon Bridge,
where all the big shops are, before starting out towards Putney and joining Upper
Richmond Road/Sheen Road and then on into Richmond itself. The second time I stopped off in Wimbledon
Village, at the Starbucks up there, then took a detour passed the All England
Tennis Club, ended up in Wandsworth, picked up Putney Bridge Road and made my
way back towards Richmond (it had been a particularly cold day, but very stable
– not bad conditions for cycling once you get going). As a whole, I like the Wimbledon
Circuit but there is an aspect to it I'm not so fond of: the stage where
I have to follow the A3 – or Robin Hood Way, as it’s also known – around
Wimbledon Common to reach Wimbledon Proper. It isn't a question of distance, I just think there must probably be a
more pleasant route through Wimbledon Common that avoids the tedium of cycling
alongside the A3.
Just the other day I was quite in the mood
for riding the Wimbledon Circuit and thought I might have another crack at
finding a way through the Common, having abandoned my previous attempt on
account of the freezing conditions and the confusing abundance of paths. But after studying Google Maps I was sure
I’d identified the passage I needed to follow.
I hadn't – couldn't possibly
have. Wimbledon Common is an undulating tract,
with a Golf Club and everything. The
wooded areas are surprisingly thick and there’s no accommodation for racing
bicycles: even mountain bikes are prohibited on some of the trails.
To build strength I try not to change gear too much, but some of the downhill dashes through Richmond
Park necessitate I shift up to avoid spinning out. So it had been on the approach to Kingston
Gate. I don’t know if it’s the nature of
down-tube shifters, but some of my gear changes have been pretty rough. And this is part of the appeal of bikes like
the Pinarello, where the gear shifters are integrated into the brake levers,
and my recent apostasy with regard to the Carlos might have something to do with
this. But my head tells me it’s a
question of technique and of practise. Besides, down-tube shifters have an aesthetic appeal.
By the time I reached the edge of Wimbledon Park I was keen to breach the Common,
even if I had to dismount and walk it – which I did. I ended up carrying my bike across sodden,
mire-like conditions, finding some succour on the open heath occupying the Common’s
interior, but was still unable to then cycle due to the stubborn snow and the
signs telling me not to. The cold-snap
had lost its grip upon the rest of the Capital – even Richmond Park was enjoying
the thaw – but the heart of Wimbledon Common had some catching up to do.
I
got a bit lost but found an exit onto West Place and the open expanse of common
that surrounds Rushmere Pond. I recalled
enough of the topography from Google Maps to then find my way to the Starbucks in
Wimbledon Village and took my coffee earlier than I would normally do.
Wimbledon Village is an odd
place. It’s like you’re on the top of
the world up there. It rests on a sort
of plateau, and I find myself physically aware of the fact. I like the feeling of isolation this gives,
of being cut off from the rest of London. If I lived alone and wanted to disengage myself from other people then
it would be a good place to dig in. I
imagine those flats that occupy the floors up above the shops are different to
those that lie in London’s lower lying recesses. I would expect the light to flood in and to feel
close to the elements, with a view over the city from my back window. One might even become rather forlorn.
Whether or not investing in a water
resistant cycling jacket is the right thing to do, I judge it to be entirely
necessary. An open, regular ¾ length coat
is vulnerable to water spray coming up the rear and making a mess of it,
whereas an elasticated hem will merely contrive to leave one’s derriere exposed
to take the flak instead. The cycling
jacket adds extra length at the back to deal with this – sort of like a synthetic
mullet – and it’s made from material that can cope. But whereas cycling jerseys can
be tailored to leave a less serious impression, the jackets often read like a
statement of intent. For practical
purposes, they’re usually cut in the most reflective of fabrics: fluorescent
yellow, silver, white, red. The
Italian manufacturer Castelli does some nice jackets in black and/or
grey, and I like their red scorpion motif that adorns them, but they’re
normally quite expensive. Rapha –
a British firm – do a very nice looking all black coat, but that costs £240 –
way over my budget.
It was whilst scouting some of
the on-line retailers that I discovered the Mavic Sprint in 'bolt blue' – an ‘everyday rain jacket with storm proven features’. Its RRP was £115.00, depending on where
you read about it, but Ribble Cycles were selling limited sizes for £51.26. (£98.99 seems to be the going rate in actual fact, although that’s still listed
as a reduction. £110 is cited as the RRP
on the 2012 design, only available in two-tone black/green or white/black.) There appeared to be issues with the sizing,
though – an inescapable reality when looking to order on-line – and, just
as it was with the Solo jersey, the reviewers of this product were of the
opinion that you should order a size up. However, the Mavic Size Chart implied that they were fully aware of
these international vagaries, and the labels reflected that: an International Medium
would be counter-labelled as a German/UK/American Small, and even as a Japanese
Large. But no, the English reviewers
reckoned you had to go up a size based on the German/UK/American
designation. Again, the size chart
revealed the existence of a German/UK/American XS and XXS, so I thought… I thought I didn't fancy taking my chances and took a tour of all the cycling shops in my expanded area to find
somewhere that stocked Mavic apparel, found a dealer not far from me, could see
where the reviewers were coming from but reckoned that a German/UK/American
Small would probably be about right. This was just as well because Ribble didn't stock a German/UK/USA medium
– this was end-of-line kit, after all.
It was worth the bother because the Mavic Sprint is as nice an anorak as
I've come across. I particularly liked
what the Guardian had to say about it when they reviewed the product back in
late 2009:
You
wouldn't necessarily choose to wear it down the pub, but nor would you stick
out too much if you did.
I’d choose to wear it down the pub, assuming it
was raining, although that’s entirely contingent on it being “bolt blue”. I'm not sure what shade of blue ‘bolt’ really
is, or how the (French) manufacturer, Mavic, chanced upon the phrase – was it a
play on the idiom ‘a bolt from the blue’ perhaps? Anyway, the jacket is a shade reminiscent (no
pun intended) of those old Peter Storm
anoraks they made in the 1970s and 80s, and anyone of a certain age might
appreciate the cachet. This means that
if I choose to wear it with a pair of slim fitting black cords and some broken
in desert boots I might vaguely resemble a member of a late 1980s indie-pop
band, such as The Pastels. It’s not
entirely why I bought it – I bought it because it was the least cycling-looking
cycling jacket I could find of any quality at that price – but it’s nice to at
least have the option.
I
think I like Mavic too. They’re more
normally associated with the manufacture of wheels than they are apparel, but I
like the sound of their name and I like the way it’s type-set. Best of all I like the little square
sub-insignia they attach to their clothes: a black ‘M for Mavic’ set upon a
yellow background, which contrasts very pleasingly against the bolt blue.
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