Rob Fisk. Stand down, Merlinman

Stand down, Merlinman. We knew it was coming – you told us that much, but it was still sudden and surprising and sad to find out that you’d breathed your last today, happily at home, surrounded by family and love, having said goodbye to many of us in person.

(Thanks to Nicky Allison for the photo)

It’s perhaps no exaggeration to suggest that without Rob Fisk, Singletrackworld as you know it might not have made it through those difficult early years. Rob filled the role of godfather, or perhaps ‘indulgent uncle’ in our early efforts.
Back when we had ten forum posts a day, Rob would always have written one of them. He was always supportive of us and everything we did. If we organised a ride, he’d be there. If we needed advice and direction, he’d give it. When we produced a new T-shirt, jersey, mug or jigsaw, Rob would phone up, usually within minutes and order one of every design.

“Don’t worry Rob, you’re family, we’ll send you a free…”

“The name on the card is R. Fisk. Mastercard…”, he would interrupt us, “6745 1234… you have my address” – and that was that.

He kept us in good humour, too. When we were struggling to keep the lights on, he sent us a framed tin of baked beans in an ‘Open in emergency’ box that was proudly displayed on the office wall for years.

Rob was such a part of the fabric of the magazine from those early years. Though we were in our thirties, we would completely forget that he was a couple of decades older than the oldest of us, yet he never complained when he was dragged along on camping weekends, on late nights in pubs, random friends’ floors or bunk beds in bunkhouses and rides in all sorts of weather. Rob was part of the Singletrack family and would always get an invite to our work Christmas parties and our personal birthday parties.

Rob loved mountain bikes. His bikes were always immaculate and well kept. He still had his namesake Merlin titanium hardtail and had owned a range of high-end bikes from Spot to Maverick. But more than that, Rob loved the people behind the bikes. He would come to events, not really for the 24 hour racing, or the traipse over the Peak District, he came for the chat and the banter and the stories. He would listen carefully to everyone, remembering all that he was told.

Rob had had cancer for a while, the treatment for which he accepted without complaint or undue secrecy. In late April this year, he told his friends that his latest cancer was aggressive and untreatable. At most he had weeks or months left and, after a couple of days of letting it sink in, he invited all who knew him to visit him for a cuppa, a chat and what we would all know, would be a final goodbye.

I was lucky that I could go and visit him, and his wife Chris, soon after, at their house for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. At 79, Rob was happy with his lot, content and settled. He’d been selling off some of his bikes, spares and music collection. Just tidying up the odds and ends. He talked fondly of past events, asked about the welfare of other friends and just seemed so calm and happy with his lot.

As I went to leave, he gripped my hand in a warm handshake. “I’ve had such a good life, Chipps. I have no regrets.”

Stand down Merlinman. You helped made Singletrackworld what it is and you’ve inspired us all.

It’s all about bikes and friendship. But mostly friendship…