Blackburn Mammoth AnyValve

Length: 29cm
Weight: 168g

When the Blackburn Mammoth appeared in the office, one tester picked it up and said ‘That’s a design classic, that is’. That’s as may be, but it’s got some stiff competition. Does it still sit at the top of the heap?

Our test pump’s barrel is red. Not some fancy anodised colour, just straightforward, painted, bright red – although the internal shaft is anodized (red) – I guess this might make it easier to see in the confines of a dark pack. It’s also available in black. The barrel is aluminium, and it’s topped and tailed by a rubberised plastic handle at one end and a plastic valve adapter at the other. The whole thing is a substantial but not excessive 29cm long.

The handle swings out to form an L-bar for easier gripping. The valve adapter is a clever piece of kit: there’s no fiddling with bits of plastic, or turning switches. You just press the valve – Presta or Schrader – onto the adapter, flip up the lever and proceed to pump. It’s extremely straightforward, and beautifully elegant. The lack of hose means it’s perhaps not as ergonomic as some, but this wasn’t really an issue as there are still plenty of comfy positions to pump in. The relative simplicity of the internal gubbins means that there’s a pretty decent volume of air available when you pump (the outside of the pump proudly proclaims 83cm³), and there’s a satisfyingly long stroke length. There are no mechanisms for high or low volumes, but getting to pressure was achieved with minimal fuss. When you’re done, there’s a plastic flap that fits securely over the valve adapter to keep muck out, and it even comes with an adapter for Dunlop valves – not that I’ve ever met anyone who uses those. An excellent, good value and simple to use pump.

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Barney Marsh

Barney Marsh takes the word ‘career’ literally, veering wildly across the road of his life, as thoroughly in control as a goldfish on the dashboard of a motorhome. He’s been, with varying degrees of success, a scientist, teacher, shop assistant, binman and, for one memorable day, a hospital laundry worker. These days, he’s a dad, husband, guitarist, and writer, also with varying degrees of success. He sometimes takes photographs. Some of them are acceptable. Occasionally he rides bikes to cast the rest of his life into sharp relief. Or just to ride through puddles. Sometimes he writes about them. Bikes, not puddles. He is a writer of rongs, a stealer of souls and a polisher of turds. He isn’t nearly as clever or as funny as he thinks he is.

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