I live about half a mile from Haugh Woods, happy to show you what I know/ride although it’s not everyone’s cup of tea – drop me an e-mail.

Oh, and Coombes and Climb On are completely different shops although relatively close together.

Seemed a fun concept so I thought I’d have a go but without Strava/computer/GPS I went with a written record.

It’s not exactly going to plan……… http://www.retrobike.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=235554

And my account here http://www.retrobike.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=223400

Yes, I was out for quite a bit but thought I may as well get value for money. It also seemed that the PYG ‘pond’ got deeper as time went on – by the time I got there on the way down it was almost waist deep.

My life, some of the times mentioned above!

Third time and third finish for me and steadily slower each year until I achieved my natural level – DFL in 6 hours 55. A few minor offs but no mechanicals or major issues, just slow – I’d prefer not to relate how deep the pond was at the bottom of PYG lane by the time I got there though.

Tricky part was getting to Ribblehead with 15 minutes to the 2 p.m. cutoff at the bottom of PYG and realising that I had a chance of making it then regretting doing so for the next few hours!

I’m sure this

with the expression of a man who had secretly defecated in his shorts and was enjoying the warm glow more than strictly necessary
has been lifted from somewhere, but good effort, all the same.

fair cop, read it in the paper on the ferry home and thought “I must plagarise”.

I was Spartacus though.

For those that can’t get enough, there’s some Belgian Waffle here http://www.retrobike.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=195472

Hmm, many are saying standard double, others recommend a compact but still not decided on what is suitable for a biffeur apart from perhaps a Double Corona and a certain loucheness.

Oh yeah, and modesty aside, I make a cracking windbreak.

Thanks chaps, some really useful stuff – typically I am thinking about bike set up when in reality I should be thinking about my legs. That said, I will use broader tyres with thicker tubes and pumped up hard to try to avoid punctures if possible (standing at the side of the road furiously using a mini pump like I’m trying to stab a rabbit with a plastic spoon is not the image I have in mind).

Your not the John Talen of Dwars fame and TDF rider are you?

No, not me, but it is one of his old bikes and if I hold my breath and squint for long enough I can persuade myself that he rode the Ronde on this one.

Great bike there, you could just buy a 38.

I think that I might do that although it may be as easy/easier to just swop out the cassette if I have a slightly gentler one in the shed.

my only concern with your set up is downtube shifters, taking your hands off the bars on the faster cobbled bits could get interesting.

I’m guessing the faster cobbled bits are flat or downhill (certainly won’t be uphill!)? From Paris-Roubaix in 2010 I found that the approach on the flat was to hold the bars on the tops and turn as big a gear as you reliably could as placing hands on the hoods was a recipe for really bruising the webs on your hands. And downhill I think I will be more concerned with slowing down/staying on than changing gear. I know what you mean about downtube shifters though, however I am trying to convince myself that they have a certain elegance, elan even and just leave it at that.

a skinny steel frame will float over the top if you go fast enough

That’s what I hope although with a biffer like me aboard ‘float’ isn’t perhaps the word I would have chosen 😉

Here’s another couple including an obligatory ‘on a pile of logs’ shot

I remember that ‘riding after dark’ on the Wendover Bash and Geoff encouraging me not to use my (pathetic) front light as “it’ll ruin your night vision”. Fortunately I was on a touring bike with 25c tyres so slippery roots under leaves, in the dark, downhill and on unfamiliar trails was no problem at all.

Not sure, perhaps $100 but some companies ask mad prices.

The shipping isn’t the problem, it’s VAT and Customs that’ll screw you over (and they charge VAT on the postage).

Andy Murray got to the semi-finals of all four majors last year, only the seventh man ever to achieve that. It’s all the more impressive as he’s playing in arguably the greatest era of all time, particularly with the year that Djokovic enjoyed. So reckon that his name is as deserved in that list as any others.

That said, don’t warm to him at all and he’s rightly got no chance of winning this year.

I have not read the entire thread. However I work in the public sector therefore understand clearly that I am parasitical scum who is individually bringing the country to it’s knees. This lowly existence is exacerbated by my pathetic ability on a bike.

I apologise.

The Ritchey does look cool, to my eyes would be better with silver post and stem though. Anyway, here’s a couple more.

Colnago Rabobank Team bike

IF Planet X

Ah, so it’s:

1 = twerp
2 = chump
3 = enlightened?

I suppose that makes sense although not sure if a ‘collaboration’ is a real IF (AKA Fat wannabe), sounds like an On One/Lynskey mash up to me.

did any of them make it to the end without mechanicals having their ego stroked behind a tree?

Fixed it for you.

Top day out, great to ride in November in the UK in shorts and short sleeves, just had to make sure that we were out of the Forest before being sacrificed in their giant Wicker Man bonfire.

An all original 1988 Fat Chance was bike of the ride (with no mechanicals). Attempts to dismiss it as a ‘Pre Indy Fab’ failed – as Partidge had it “Wings, they’re only the band the Beatles could have been”. Clearly Indy Fab are Wings, only a fool would like them and only a complete twerp would own one, much less two (if you know of a two IF owner, shun them as nothing good will ever come of association).

Apologies for the spelling and grammatical mistakes but I was hopped up on Leffe and fine cohibas at the time of writing.

Anyway, here’s how it is at the back of the field…..

Picture the scene. Paris’ Left Bank in the early 1930s. Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir sit chewing the fat over a couple of long, cool pastis. My French isn’t up to translating their deep conversation but one word stands out – pourquoi. This was a word, albeit in English, that had been featuring large over the previous couple of months whenever I thought about the 3 Peaks Cyclocross. But what relevance did the great existentialist have to lugging an inappropriate bike up a few large hills in the Yorkshire Dales? Somehow, I suspected I was to find out.

Day minus 2
The plan was to have a day off work, prep the bike, load the car and rest. By the end of the day I’d loaded a filthy bike with a dry but dirty chain, underinflated tyres and a non-working track pump. I’d also drunk half a bottle of what a restaurant would call ‘rustic red’ and eaten ham, egg and chips rather than something suitably carbo loading. Oh, and I’d had a pair of pints.

Day minus 1
For Event Eve I was going to take a leisurely drive north, have a siesta and then meet up with Mark Sinnett to set the world to rights with a calming couple of pints. I set off in good time, fortified by a considerable breakfast and laden down with chocolate and Chilli Heatwave flavoured Doritos (Vinia’s latest version of ‘endurance sports food’). The three and a half hour journey morphed into 7 hours but I did manage to read 100 pages of a novel while on the M6 so definitely no time was wasted, even if I was when I arrived. No time for resting, I needed Sinnett’s sage words to calm the butterflies. All I recall was “take the high line” and “make sure your wheels are turning fast enough to clear your tyres”. Sounds fine until I also recalled that he’s not known as Crash Bandicoot for nothing. Hmm, perhaps time to evoke The Elf – “you’ve got to respect the distance, big man”. That’s better. But, really, 38 miles isn’t far, is it?

Day 0
After a night spent with 8 men and a teenage boy in a bunkhouse I awoke in a truly horrendous, soup like atmosphere, reminiscent of a barn in Bavaria before bear fighting was outlawed. Modestly, I can only claim partial credit for the smell.

Signing on at 6.45 a.m., the weather was warm but all surrounding hillsides were bathed in cloud. I wandered around, trying to keep calm, but was troubled that all the men, and most of the women, were thin and flinty eyed – where were the tubby fellows full of bonhomie? Tucked up safe at home if they had any sense.

I forced down as much of the ‘breakfast of champions’ (low fat vanilla yoghurt mixed with crunchy oat cereal plus a pint of Diet Red Bull) as I could, which wasn’t much. Just after 9 I thought that I should find my starting spot at the back of the field and stepped out into heavy rain. This boded badly indeed as John Rawnsley had advised the night before that Ingleborough was “very boggy” – would this turn out to be classic Yorkshire understatement?

Thankfully the starter held us up so that we started 5 minutes late so that we were drenched rather than merely damp. The opening 5km or so is on the road and I enjoyed the gritty taste of rear wheel spray for 10 minutes. If only I’d known that this was far from the worst thing I’d taste during the day.

The road turn off to Simon Fell came and it was immediately a mess of crunching gears and dropped chains. I was far too much of an old hand to make such an elementary mistake, opting instead to ride in a completely inappropriate gear. And then I needed a call of nature. By the time I’d finished – and is there a stranger sight than a man in a field, bent double in bibshorts, muttering “come on you bastard, come on”? – I was last. Convincing myself this was tactical to avoid the traffic jam on Simon Fell I set off, realising too late that I’d already lost one of the two pieces of pipe lagging that would cushion my body from carrying the bike. Which I was about to do up the 45 degrees of Simon Fell.

Somehow I settled into a steady plod and caught and passed lots of fellow stragglers, occasionally getting a tyre to the side of the head as they slipped (for accuracy I must record that ‘Wildgipper dipped in manure’ is an interesting taste, but possibly not one that I care to repeat. If only I’d known that this was far from the worst thing I’d taste during the day. I paused at one point to allow someone to move across and looked above to see silhouetted figures disappearing into the mist., conjuring up visions of the First World War (although obviously I’m not as crass as to refer to the Somme).

Simon Fell was bested without undue grief but it was still someway to the top of Ingleborough across open bog and in thick cloud. Oh, and it was still raining hard and John handed exaggerated about it being boggy, as I found out when the ground swallowed my wheel and I went over the bars. Undeterred I pressed on and the first peak was knocked off.

I do not want to talk about the descent apart from to say that the only time I rode I ended up diving face first into a pile of farmyard slurry to emerge looking (and smelling) like a mate of Bobby Sands during the Dirty Protests. Luckily the road beckoned which would give some relief. However Mark’s advice about ‘turning the wheels fast enough to clear the tyres’ came back to haunt me as at 30 mph I proceeded to snack on the farmyard slurry. And still this was far from the worst thing I’d taste during the day although at least it was no longer raining.

The road from the bottom of Ingleborough to the base of Whernside was undulating and after chatting briefly to a 70 year old (while half wheeling, naturally), I showed my own flinty eyed side by snicking down a gear and leaving him pleading while I rode off like a ghost faced killa. The ascent of Whernside was not bad at all, simply stepping from one geasy flagstone step to the next with the Ribbleahead viaduct as a spectacular backdrop. All too soon however we were back into the clouds and assailed by rude ramblers who insisted on pushing past us on a narrow path (I will note that the vast majority of walkers we saw on the day were very considerate and the fact that I caught one surly chap with a shit caked Landcruiser was merely an unfortunate accident). The top of Whernside wasn’t boggy – yay – but it was covered with sharp, greasy and loose stones – boo. There was also a pretty sheer drop to the right which would have looked good for the split times but perhaps made finishing a challenge. Asking the time as I dibbed my dibber I realised that the winner had probably finished and I had an hour to get to the turn off to Pen-y-Ghent to avoid being DQ’d.

I do not want to talk about the descent of Whernside other than to say that I walked (lame I know but combine greasy flagstones, 6 inch wide and deep drainage channels and it wasn’t at all Edwards friendly, indeed walking in hard plastic soles and metal cleats didn’t help. Nor did seeing someone wrapped in a survival bag, tended by Mountain Rescue).

I was feeling increasingly weary and the cut off was looking a challenge so to fortify myself I pondered about what Jean Paul would do (that’s J-P Sartre, rather than Jean-Paul who featured in my ‘O’ Level French textbooks). I found that this line of thought made my head hurt so instead focused on thoughts of Kate Moss’ charming bosom, circa 2001. As if by magic I was at the bottom of Whernside in one piece.

Now I may not be able to ride down a modest hill but I can own a transitional road section with the best. I’ve no idea by how much I made the cut off, but doubt that it was by more than 5 minutes. As I climbed riders came streaming down which was a trifle demoralising. And on I climbed. My ability to ride ceased as the terrain steepened so it was portage time again (by this time I was cursing the French roundly, for their damned world leading miserabilist philosophy and for not being able to ‘carry’ their bike like everyone else). Still, the weather had cleared and the views were absolutely staggering. And so was I. My left knee hurt. My right knee hurt. My lower back hurt. And my head hurt from trying to think up mitigating excuses for my paltry performance – if I wasn’t last on the course I was bloody close. It was no good, time for Moss again.

And with that I was at the top of Pen-y-Ghent with just a clattering, loose, rocky descent to come. It almost made the preceeding hours worthwhile but, not wanting to spoil a commendable record, I elected to walk as it was such a lovely day. Marshalls were asking “are there any more?” and, like Peter Ustinov in lycra, I was stopping for a chat; I was almost sorry to get back to the road for the quick scoot back to Helwith Bridge and the finish.

I managed to miss most of the presentations – they wait until the last person is home and I was busy changing when that happened as I’ve found that people don’t like standing next to you when you smell of shit. Sadly I didn’t see SuperGeoff after his brilliant 12th (although as I took 3 hours longer than him I’d have been too embarrassed to do more than mutter a few words), although in my own way I feel that my efforts deserve merit – after all, how many other people were 4th last? And of those, who then experienced congestion on the M6 on the long drive home and had to eat an unidentified meat pasty in a service station (which won the award for worst taste of the day but a considerable margin)?

But what of Sartre, who started us off? He once said “for an occurrence to become an adventure, it is necessary and sufficient for one to recount it”. So I have. And it was.

A very long day out for me that would have been shortened considerably by at least trying to ride the descents.

I did ****ing own the linking sections though.

Sadly I am ill equipped to address that although Mrs Big Ted is 4’9″ which may balance things out a little.

Hot damn, I thought this science lark was easy. Clearly the experiment was fundamentally flawed from the outset and a paradigm shift is required if there is to be any credibility to the results. I therefore need to repeat taking into account the following:

– need to consider a wider range of bikes
– must get lawn in order before publishing results; time spend with a mower is worth 3 x that on bike, 5 x if a retro mower
– nutrition should be more carefully controlled, or indeed controlled at all. Pappy white bread must be at the core and processed meat products have to feature – was it Swiss Tony or John Donne who said “what is man without pork”?

Anything else that I need to take into account?

SUCCESS! Well, mostly….

After loosening off the collar yesterday and gently prising apart the ‘ears’ at the top of the seattube I applied some spray oil (“with penetrative fizzing action” – yeah, right. Actually, it did fizz quite well) and left it overnight. I tried twisting the post this morning with no luck so went for a ride. Dismounting at the top of some wooden steps I gave the nose of the saddle a sharp backhand blow and suddenly it was almost straight! Further blows and attempts at twisting did nothing but from at least an inch out of straight it’s now barely perceptible. Certainly fits in with initial thoughts that it was moved by the crash back in June.

So, although still stuck pretty solidly it’s at least straightish and there is hope. Not sure whether the percussive blow, the fizzy oil or 15 stone of biffer did the job but likely a bit of each.

Thanks to all for suggestions and I guess the moral(s) of the story are a) regularly grease your post; b) try non destructive methods first as they may just work!

Is it the wrong sized seatpost for that particular frame?

Nope, size is definitely right, it’s more a slack maintenance routine that’s caused the problem. What I can’t figure out was that it was straight, I had a substantial crash in June 2011 and now it’s off centre – surely it can’t have got stuck that quick? I suspect the answer is that it was offcentre for some time and I didn’t notice (note to all – don’t be ashamed of staring between your pumping thighs as you ride as the result if you don’t may be frustrating).

If you want to heat the frame up easily without damage, use boiling hot water.

I don’t think that’ll work as aluminium expands more than steel but the opposite freezing method may work.

Thanks again for the thoughts – I’ve left it soaking in penetrating oil overnight and will ride tomorrow with the collar undone and see if that yields anything.

Thanks again chaps, good stuff but trying to avoid destructive methods at present.

As usual, Sheldon knows and some good stuff here http://www.sheldonbrown.com/stuck-seatposts.html It sounds like penetrating oil will be no good for an aluminium post in a steel frame but I’ve little to lose by trying. The CO2 freezing approach sounds like a possibility too.

Some innovative approaches I’ve heard mentioned by Rody from Groovy Cycles, including details of methods used by John Upcraft of Hubcap Cycles

http://hubcapcycles.blogspot.com/2009/10/metal-lathe-not-just-for-round-parts.html

http://groovycycleworks.blogspot.com/2009/01/friday-was-repair-day.html

http://hubcapcycles.blogspot.com/2009/11/dumpster-fat.html

However, as Sheldon points out, prevention is so much easier than cure 🙁

Thanks both, had already had a go at twisting with the saddle on plus fully loosening off the collar, removing the saddle clamp and the hammer/wood approach to no avail. Perhaps i’ll try a bit of oil and then ride with the seat clamp loose as my weight may help to break the seal.

Talking of which, shaky memory of second year Chemistry at school tells me that it’s oxidisation between the aluminium post and the steel frame rather than rust so guessing water isn’t the problem (although now I’m worried about what might be going on in the seattube). Not sure how good penetrating oil will be against oxidisation – oh well, off to find out!

Just received the invite to enter…..

Without a shadow of a doubt some of my fondest cycling memories involve road riding in the high mountains in France.

5 years ago I went to the Pyrennes and, riding alone, covered the Col d’Aubisque (I seriously overheated, shaking, the lot), Col du Soulor, Col de Perysoude, Col de Tourmelat (nice glass of red at the top), Col de Port d’Aspet (a minutes silence at Fabio Casatelli’s memorial), Col du Port (lovely quiet climb but not after two huge bowls of cassoulet for lunch!). Rode a Crosscheck and did none of the descents (I had the fear for descending so bike went in the back of my mates car).

2 summers I headed to the Alps with my 7-11 Eddy Merckx Corsa Extra, fear for descending at bay but not fully tamed. What followed was 7 days of joy with over 12km of vertical ascent. Among others managed Alpe d’Huez, Col du Galibier (in a HUGE thunderstorm, visibility about 10 feet at the top), Col du Glandon, Col de la Coix de Fer, Les Deux Alpes, Col du Telegraphe etc. The quiet ‘back way’ up Alpe d’Huez was wonderful if less iconic than the Tour route). The descent off the Col du Glandon was particularly memorable as, in a moment of fancy, I latched on to some French guys and went with them all the way down. And the quieter side routes are almost better than the famous climbs, no cars, just tree lined climbs, rhythmical breathing and then glorious relaxing descents. Magical.

Happy, happy days, makes me want to book a holiday immediately!

Actually, anyone have experience of the Giro climbs, particularly the Stelvio and Gavia? Any recommendations?

Detailed review with photos here http://www.retrobike.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=153362

I’ve a Zullo SLX in case you need a few photos.

Zullo’s are particularly high end now http://www.zullo-bike.com/prodotti.html so well worth refurbishing I reckon.

Forest of Dean is pretty good for all sorts but there’s Dancing Green nearer than Ross and Symonds Yat is also within 30 minutes too.

Looks like it’s going to be popular then 😉

Slightly at an angle to the title,but if you scroll down this thread http://www.retrobike.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=150891 you’ll see the hole, obscured by 6 foot high nettles, that I put my foot in on Sunday.

Fortunately the tingling sensation from the nettle stings was superceded five minutes later when I chargrilled my cock on an electric fence.

Endura do custom cycle kit and it’s really good stuff – link is http://www.endura.co.uk/Dept.aspx?dept_id=134

I may have moved away from Cambridge in 1994 but I remember it for having some of the best freehouses of anywhere I’ve lived. And 17 years on the memories of some of those remain – The Flying Pig, Cambridge Blue, Live and Let Live, The Empress just to name a few. Plus The Free Press, a non smoking pub – I bet that doesn’t catch on.

If half those pubs are half as good as I remember Cambridge will still be a blinding place to live.

If punctures are a potential issue then the 3Peaks CX favourite Scwalbe Landcruisers may be a good bet – heavy but reliable if pimped up hard and can be usually had for £25 a pair.

Resurrecting an old thread….

Thanks for the kind words, as above, if you were around in the early 90s then the likes of the Yo Eddy, RC100 and Dolomite paint scheme Attitude will always have a special place in your heart. And if you weren’t then they most probably won’t.

That’s a stunning bike, beautiful. Are you ‘ededwards’ the poet from retrobike?

It’s a rider or a garage queen?

I am indeed ‘ededwards’ from Retrobike but less sure about the poet part.

It’s definitely a rider rather than garage queen, covered it in Cannock slurry a few weeks ago and intending to take it to FoD soon. Would ride even better with the original rigid fork though.

I’ll certainly be there (now must remember, not too much red wine tonight!).

Really looking forward to this!

@ psling – could you drop me an e-mail to edDOTviniaATvirginDOTnet?

Cheers

Ed

I’ve a B17 here too and it is comfortable enough but to be honest, for me, it’s no better than a Turbo, Rolls, Flite or Arione.

Flip – your Brian Rourke looks great but I’d agree with your comments about the saddle not looking quite right (style and how far you can get it back). You haven’t asked but I’ll offer the opinion that a Rolls would look far better; you could get them in a reddy brown, a not completely dissimilar colour to the Brooks. Just a thought.

They’re the tyre of choice for the 3 Peaks for a reason!