Amy 2 - For Anyone Wondering What I Was on About

We started the Amy Gillet 100 from the back of the field, on bikes made in the mid-Twenties to mid-Thirties. 

If you have spent any time having a bit of a wander through our web pages, you will know that I have been systematically threatening to put three Thirties vintage bikes on the road for Gav and Craig and I to use - the romantic idea being to see if it is practical to take bikes of this era to Paris-Brest-Paris 2011.

Final shake-down and road testing was done along the bike path that conveniently dropped us right at the starting point.  We timed our arrival just minutes shy of setting off, just enough time for a last nervous fiddle ( I'll leave you to imagine what with ) and then line up at the back of the field so that we would draw the minimum of attention for this first outing.

We had originally set a target last November to try the bikes on the road.  I didn't manage to get into the rebuilding in time, and struggled to get spokes of the right length and other minor bits like bidon cage mounts organised.  November lapsed, but Amy's ride presented itself as an ideal event to aim for - the coffee and pastries at the Richmond Bakery are pretty good, so the option of stopping short with 'mechanical troubles' seemed at least practical.

Paint, or actually the remains of paint came off the Whatley Frame and the Malvern Star.  The Aero wears its original and heavily scarred gloss black and hand striping still.

Each bike was set up with the thought to make the frame and fork a solid and reliable base, with the idea of inspiring some confidence.  The bikes use loose ball bearings - 33 in each race - and bolted steerer clamps to adjust the pre-load.  Having sifted out a nice firm-fitting collection of races, polished the tiny bearings and slipped the whole thing into place, this crucial junction has come up very well given the age of the components.

Wheels were re-laced and where necessary and tensioned up - again with the idea to create a solid feeling base.  Craig rode trad 28 inch wheels.  I used 27's as did Gav at the last minute, as the original rear for the Aero collapsed under the tension of 14g DT's.  Rears used Sturmey Archer AW 3-speeds coupled to a trigger shifter pulling cable over a frame roller.  Front hubs proved to be a collection of different things -not all period and definately temporary.  Tyres consisted of a mix of old and new - block tread 27's and pretty ancient Dunlop Olympic Torch items for the Whatley's 28 inch Endrick rims.

Cranks were the most difficult to sort out.  The Aero exhibited a very weird tendency to clip a chain stay with the crank end under Gav's strong legs ( yes the clearance is that tight with the original spindle ), so ring-in Magistroni's with a TDC spindle were slipped in for the day to remove the problem.  Otherwise the Aero used its original 30's cups and bearings.  The Whatley also used it's original cups, a TDC spindle and original bearings along with a nice set of Williams cranks.  The Malvern Star used a new drive side cup to get around relatively worn threads, and the original Walton and Brown left cup with a new TDC lock ring.  48 teeth chainrings were matched to the 18 tooth rear cog for a mid-range straight through of about 74 gear inches.

Bars came from a selection of 'Oppy' bend Reynolds and unknown brand items for Gav and I, while Craig was set up with some 70's randonneur bend items for a bit of extra leverage.  Gav then got the nod for the adjustable stem from the Whatley in order to get some extra reach, as the Aero frame really is a little small for his body length.  Graig and I made do with shorter steel items from the collection - mine proving a little short, creating a bit of an aching back by the end of 100.  Trad sticky-backed black cloth bar tape completed the look - wound on at about midnight the night before the ride.

Brakes you know about if you have read some of the earlier posts - Philco's all round, both front and rear, with the exception of the Aero which has a side-pull front that clamps to the fork blades.  Pads were shaped for the Philco holders from items sourced through 'The Bike Shop' in Moonah.  Mick Harris enthusiastically sourced some items through a supplier that were rubber with a leather centre section.  These worked well enough for a bit of fun on Grass-tree hill.

Steel seat posts, Brooks and Bell leather saddles, clips and straps for me with leather shoes, SPD's for Gav and Craig for reliability and ease ( also thinking about possibly needing to walk a bit if the worst happened ).

With some fiddling on the Saturday afternoon before the ride, Craig nutted out what I had done in reassembling the SA hubs, and we quickly corrected that fault by properly seating the planet gears before setting the cone adjustment - voila, three speeds.  A final tweek of brake adjustment in the evening and then away we went on the day - wondering just how far we'd get on the bike path before something fell off.

By sheer luck, the only incident was a broken rear spoke on the Aero after the ride on the way home ( only a few K's away from a cold beer ) and a slightly loose bar clamp, again on the Aero - easily cinched up at the road-side.   Otherwise, the bikes ran remarkably and we had a fantastic day out on rolling terrain clonking gears up and down, and muscling a relatively high bottom gear over all the little rollers in the Coal River Valley.  It was a treat watching the bikes being used out on the road.  I can't wait for some more classic adventures.

s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-super series

It’s done.  200, 300, 400 and 600 kilometre rides.  The Audax Club Parisenne ( ACP ) Super Randoneurs Series is now in the bag.  I’m not quite sure how to feel about that with a weeks distance and rest from the 600.  Pulling up at the end of the 600 ride at 8 in the evening, having finished with a sore hip flexor but otherwise going strongly, was very satisfying – big grins all around, handshakes and the odd manly hug.  It has been some time since this idea was first raised.  A lot of mileage and effort has seen us transformed from 100Km heroes, into all day – and all night – conquerors of Tasmania’s twisting up and down roads and unpredictable weather patterns.

I think that actually reaching the finish of the 600 was pretty heartening.  We had just spent the last two days pushing into a headwind – conditions seemingly swirling around to face us at every turn in the road.  The final 50 had almost brought us to tears earlier in the day as we made the turn off the

Midlands Highway

and onto the Mudwalls road, only to discover that the strengthening breeze had shifted to a Southerly – so directly into our face for the final run home.

I won’t bore your with a blow by blow account of each ride, but rather hit upon the high and low points.  You may wonder at the s-s-s-s-s-s reference in this week’s title.  The telltale bump, bump, bump of a rear flat is not a fantastic feeling at 11.30 at night on a busy highway.  Probably can’t really complain though, in 1500Km of riding, we have suffered just five punctures between us – three of those within five hours of riding on the 400 after my rear tyre took a bit of a battering on very coarse road base outside Launceston.  The most surreal part of changing the third flat at the side of the road in the dark somewhere near Tunbridge was attracting a rather large Huntsman spider from the surrounding undergrowth.  Presumably out hunting for its evening meal, the lights we were working under must have attracted its attention and it was busily investigating my front wheel when Gav spotted it.  Glad I didn’t try to take off with it crawling in the spokes.  With a gashed rear tyre plastered with stick-on patches and one of Gav’s tubes in place, I then spent the next couple of hours on the front, watching for anything larger than a grain of sand on the road ahead.  This was ok though.  On this 400 ride we had paid our headwind dues on the way North, and then enjoyed a fantastic run home again ahead of a freshening tail wind.  Sitting on the front really was no trial with such natural assistance.

Although we have had the odd verge excursion due to tiredness and a forgetful overlapping of wheels, we have had no falls or really any sort of close call.  Which is fantastic.  A broken spoke on the 600 was a bit of a shock really, quite a loud bang quickly focussing my attention on the realisation that only 17 spokes in my Shimano front wheel were left to carry the load.  This really did add another dimension to the 15 Km to Bicheno, the nearest town.  Worry was relieved by the grateful receipt of a stranger’s front wheel – kindly offered to help keep us going.  This one act of generosity really did contribute to the completion of the ride ( safely ) and reinforced that old adage that ‘ to win, your equipment must get you to the finish’.  I guess 32 spokes and a few spares taped to the pump barrel will be the go from now on.

The only incident, besides the odd tool yelling abuse out of car windows ( funny how ‘buy a car’ is the best the current young crop can come up with – very Gen-Y ) has been the beer can incident – also on the 400.  I was hit on the back by what I believe was an aluminium can thrown from a passing truck.  Stupidly, I looked around to see what the projectile was – not realising at first that it had come from the cab of the truck.  By the time I’d figured it out, the license plate was too blurry to read properly.  I must admit that it was a pretty good throw from a vehicle travelling at about 80.  Amazing that we weren’t hurt and disappointing that the Police were about five kilometres up the road and also didn’t see a thing.

Whether high or low, Craig’s efforts on the 300 in the face of the onset of heat exhaustion needs mentioning.  I would lump this into both the high and low categories, because things felt pretty serious at about 170, with a roadside stop that required sitting on the ground – not usually a good sign.  This run up the coast was made on a magically clear day, with temperatures reaching the low 30’s by the time we turned for home.  Craig was already encrusted with salts by this stage, and I could actually see the perspiration flying horizontally from his brow in the strong cross-wind.  Water and food in.  A stop in Orford for more liquids and a proper recline on the leather couches of the local café, and then out into a cooler sea breeze for the final 80.  Craig rode it out, completing a very gutsy ride - not wanting to delay the qualifying process.   As the afternoon temperature dropped a bit and the liquids went in, he got better, and climbed Bust-Me-Gall slowly but defiantly.  The deluge that greeted us for the final climb of the day refreshed and soaked us to the skin, but ensured that Craig made it home in more comfortable temperatures.  The wet did teach us a thing about chafing, but I’ll leave that to your imaginations, as this is a family friendly web site.

High points ? 

Spectacular sunsets on the 600. 

Nestle ‘Space Food’ bars…

Quick and enjoyable local 200 loops. 

Pringles at 11.30 pm…

Excellent company and sense of camaraderie. 

A nice little link to our inspiration, Sir Hubert Opperman, by riding 400 from Hobart to Launceston and back to Hobart in one go – an eye opener because our day proved roughly 23 hours long, Oppy’s just 15 using a single speed on muddy gravel roads in the 1930’s. 

Vanilla custard just straight in a bowl…

Not feeling completely deathly on the second morning of the 600 was also a nicer experience.  The first time, I was nauseous and really not good, and grovelled all morning to the first proper stop in Longford.  This second attempt on the same course seemed much better, with a good 4 hours sleep and reasonable spirits in the morning.  Although a little feverish from an impending head cold I was refreshed somewhat and ready for the day, which was an excellent feeling of progression.  Gav also managed his usual remarkable physical regeneration over night – having skipped half of dinner due to a rolling stomach and general tiredness.  Gav rose on the Sunday morning, his usual chipper self and then proceed to ride strongly all day, seemingly without any after affect from the night before. 

Coffee at the bakery in Longford…

Amazing generosity on both the 400 ride and 600, with the above-mentioned wheel swap and free hot chips form the Campbelltown Hotel on the return leg of the 400.  Even after the kitchen had closed and they were packing up the dining room, the guys welcomed us in and served up piping hot ( and very welcome ) salty chips and then refused payment – wonderful.

Sleeping in ‘til noon after the 400 – something I haven’t done for over two years.

I think Gav is probably the stage racer amongst us.  He seems to get better as the days progress.  I’m a bit the opposite, just experiencing a gradual decline in performance, with only minor highlights as the body starts to break down.  Craig seems even and strong.  Its a little hard to tell at times just how he is going.  On the flat there is just consistent pulling power which has helped enormously on each ride – to cover the miles easily and quickly.   

 Physically we are all visibly leaner – even me, which is something of an accomplishment - and now able to literally pedal all day and then on into the evening. 

We are all now focussed on solid foods at milestone stops – plenty of salty hot chips have been consumed, in fact I think that these rides have become a bit of a salty hot chip tour, a food group normally banned in civilian life – but also kept our attention on proper electrolyte replacement ( see I told you that hot salty chips were key to our success ) and constant fluid intake.  A camelback-type arrangement has proven invaluable for this, meaning go juice and plain water can be kept separate easily – with plenty of fresh water at hand to wash down a gel or sticky energy drink.  Roadies who think that hydration packs should not be seen out on the road need to up their averages a little.

My overall impression of the riding is that we probably drive a little too hard on sections between stops, and have found it necessary to also keep break times to agreed minimums.  It has been interesting to compare our own strategy ( not really a strategy, really a rough plan ) with other riders ( ok, actually only one other Tasmanian rider ).  We do ride relatively quickly as a small group, five to ten minute turns usually – unless the wind is really strong ) turning 27-30 Km/Hr averages in some sectors.  This is then spaced with stops to eat, fill pockets and ease sensitive backs.  For P-B-P we will need to learn to control our efforts a little more, while keeping stops to an absolute minimum time – always the aim and much easier to say than actually do.

So many small lessons learned.  Thankyou Gav and Craig.  I certainly couldn’t have imagined getting this far on my own.

Amy

Apologies Amy G, we hi-jacked your cause to bring our rusty collection into the light for the first time, and on reflection I'm feeling a bit guilty about it.  Getting so caught up in the ABSOLUTE glee of hounding past the carbon masses on a bike made eighty years ago meant that I didn't for a moment think about why we were actually out on the ride.

A month ago on the 23rd of Feb, the first Amy Gillet Foundation ride was held in Hobart under a gorgeous blue sky, in perfect cool still air, and along familiar back roads in and around and about Richmond.  I'm rather hoping that Amy and her family would have enjoyed the sight of us cutting along in formation, but I rather think that we kind of missed the point.  We were supposed to be out championing road awareness and safety, not letting the brakes go at the top of Grasstree Hill, forgetting that we were relying on aged steel pipes and crude ( at best ) brakes to keep us right side up ( not to mention Craig's 40 year old Dunlop Olympic Torch rear tyre... )

For those who don't know the name, Amy Gillet was a young and talented Australian cyclist killed in a road accident while training with team mates in Germany.  The perspective-driving point of this is that Amy and her mates weren't doing anything alarming, just riding down a straight piece of country road...

Of course, we weren't alone in our flush of summer abandonment.   Everyone else was enjoying the day, and the road, and the company, and the free show bag every bit as much as we were - forgetting to keep to the left a bit and generally hogging the road three abreast all over the place.  The police officers amiably closing the first few kilometers of road must have been shaking their heads at the rabble.  ( Yes I do know that cyclists in Tasmania are remarkably lucky and have equal rights as road users, and can legally ride two abreast - that's not really the point, is it ? )

We did get to ride over the Tasman bridge.  With a lane closed to traffic and few Sunday morning motorists, this unusual experience set the tone for the day.  The closed road group start was so cool in fact, that I must admit to a first rush of blood, passing the first third of the field ( from the very, very back ) on the way to the crest of the bridge, then letting the bike off the leash and plumeting down the incline from the centre point summit.  I couldn't help it I swear, it was a first release of emotion from two weeks of late night bike prep, coupled with complete elation that we had made the ten mile ride from home to the start without incident, and in fact, the bikes seemed to feel pretty good to ride.

More admissions.  We had only ridden the bikes, in draft form, the morning before after a frantic effort to get all three rollng in time.  We'd never used a Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub in practice - actually out on the road - nor did we have much idea of the critical stopping power of a pair of philco brake calipers.  Our optimistic logic was that if the flat ride to the start proved practical, and nothing fell off, then a flatish 100 in the Coal River Valley would be fine.

I had actually sweated over this a little in the days previous.  Evening shed sessions started with setting up each frame and fork so that they would prove dependable, solid and without any wobble or slop.  Fishing amongst my collection of bits garnered bearing races, balls and locking rings that worked together.  Same logic to the bottom bracket.  Free of play and solid, combinations were matched and adjusted carefully to ensure smooth and reliable running.  Wheels then came together - respoked in some cases, tensioned in others - again with the intention of providing a solid running base. 

The bikes are so basic in spec that there really isn't much else, just brake calipers and levers and then stem, bars, seatpost and pedals.  But that is forgetting about small items like the gear trigger shift and roller pulleys for the gear cable, and the small collets required to finish off the brake cables to the correct length , or trimming the brake blocks to fit into the fixed housings...

But you see, there I go again getting all enthusiastic.

We've been lucky the last year and a bit.  Aside from a few yobs who either love the sound of their own voice ( yelling unintelligibly from their passing window ), or the manly toot of their V8 air horns, the worst experience we have had over 4000Km on the road was during our recent 400 brevet, 90 from home in the darkness on the Midlands Highway.   I was hit from behind by something  ( I think an empty beer can ) thrown from the window of a passing truck.  The projectile didn't do any damage - I'm just sorry not have caught the license number in the confusion and darkness.

It can that be that simple though - thoughtless and at times plain stupid behaviour can often have more serious consequences. 

I know its a bit late, but apologies again Amy, for momentarily forgetting you and others who have suffered the same unnecessary fate.  And thankyou to your family too, who have made it their mission to actively work through your foundation to ask all road users to actually think about what they are doing and consider the lives of others.

Bon Chance.

Changes

erm...sorry.   As usual, I have skipped the niceties and just lept straight in without any sort of acknowledgement or explanation of the recent web page re-shuffle.  Maybe I'm just a bit excited to practice my new ( and severely limited ) blog site creating skills...


If you have come to here via the web site you might have noticed the change.  If not, maybe click on the link to Home Base and let me know if it works ok.


The 'About 750M' page - linked on the right just over there - says it.  We want to add a live feel alongside the relativley static pages of the web site. 


On the web site you can read a bit about PBP and Oppy, and maybe feel inspired to research some more - and there is so much more.  There is a bit about us and some of the ideas that drive what we have done through 2010 and what we are planning to take on this year.  Most of this content will remain unchanged as an anchor point for reference.  Previous little ride blogs have been archived, but can be accessed via quick links at the bottom of the page on the web site.


What you have been reading here is about regularly trying to record our experiences, and ( although the guys don't realise it yet ) allow me an outlet to ramble around in my memory banks without giving away too much about my wasted youth. 


Possibly things will seem a bit earnest at times - that's just the way it is.

 Most importantly, you will be able follow us in the lead up to embarking for France as we take on a series of ride challenges and fiddle about with three bikes that are 70-80 years old.  We are planning a series of monthly event rides that give a little nod to Oppy's exploits in Tasmania during the Twenties and Thirties, allow us to attempt some fund raising activities, and hopefully build on our hard won fitness in preparation for the main event.  Maybe you'll feel a bit inspired to join in and we'd be glad to have you along.

More will be revealed early March - We are plotting a bit of a mail out so you-all will be the first to know.

750M

Zen and the Art of Randonneuring - Part 2

This is Gav - Man Motorcycle - Rouler Deluxe.

 

Perched inside a ( rather incongruous ) mountainside Budist shrine on the lower slopes of Mt Wellington ( Tasmania ! ? ) there is a sereness in his face that I feel compelled to share. 

I took this image with my 'phone as we began the first leg of our planned 200Km PBP Super Randonneur ( so very French ) qualifier in December last year.   It was the inspiration and starting point for the last post, but somehow I got a little side-tracked from the original thought and managed to go somewhere else entirely - something I am hoping to do regularly by undertaking to work up content for this site.   It is the rough and ready back roads of my mind that I am looking to enjoy exploring, as much as the riding, that motivates me.


What I am most proud of in the image above is that I have fluked the capture of Gav's inner soul.  Posing for me with ease of mind on his mind, my camera has managed to catch the faintest curve of humour at the corners of his mouth and eyes.  This is the true Man.  A joke, a laugh, enjoyment of life is never far away.  Gav is a pretty emotional sort of being - entirely a glass is half full sort of person, and always great company.

What you don't see in the imagery is just how strong he naturally is.  He is rolling a 46x18 single speed in the ( Brooks  Professional ) saddle on a 7Km, 6% grade.  I don't think he's exactly smiling at this point nearing the summit, but I know he relished rounding up carbon frames by the dozen on a bike made some time in the 1930's.  This is actually a pretty rare shot - Steve was alongside our friendly Rouler ...


I, on the other hand, seem always to be tucked into Gav's slipstream as he powers on over the nearest hill or into the wind ( the wind being his favourite and seemingly ever-present companion on the road ). 

This is the view permanently etched into memories of our rides, and I always seem to be asking him to ease up a bit just so that I can sit in.  Just a little bit of piano, piano.

We also always seem to naturally force Gav into starting off rolling turns.  He doesn't seem to mind.  His work ethic means he is happy to throw himself into the task at hand.  At the off, after lunch, or following a brief stop, I must admit that I really enjoy falling in behind Gav as he brings us up to speed and sets a pace for Craig and I to hold. 

We are going to have to do something about some extra text on the back of our jerseys.  With the length of ride beginning to ramp up, there is plenty of blank space for some fresh reading.

Thanks Gav. 

Zen and the Art of Randonneuring – Part 1

...More than a year into this project and I ( the skinny silhouette in the middle ) still don’t really think of myself as a 'randonneur' – funny how self-applied labels seem hardest to relinquish.  I’m not sure about the others but I have always thought of myself – inwardly and secretly liked to define myself - as a bike racer…which feels a little comical now that it is down on the page, as I haven’t really raced on the road ( that is, real massed start racing ) for more years than I’d like to think, and I wasn’t particularly good at it when I did.  I guess it’s ok to admit that out loud these days as there is little need to prove much - except maybe just to myself. 

Ok, with sheer pride at stake I have ripped my insides raw at the odd multisport time trial or mountain bike event as part of a team...but I seem to have lost count of feeling the Autumn change.  A distinct moment at the end of each February - like a switch has been flicked to ‘cool weather’ and the morning air feels wetter and works its way noticeably past collars and into the toes of shoes - it signals the start of the racing season in the Southern Hemisphere, and each time I sense it I promise to myself that, this year, I am going to get fit enough to ride.  And then I never seem to really make the effort to get beyond a quick jaunt to work morning and night.

What exactly have we been doing then this past 18 months ?  Before I’d finished a few ( and I do think the other guys feel this too ) the thought of 200 in a day seemed pretty simple.  A bit of a case of take it easy, roll along, eat a few bars and surf a tailwind home.  Reality has proven both flattening and exhilarating at the same time.  Depending on the day, the terrain, and how you are feeling, 200 is a pretty long way, even if you are relatively fit.  But this is just a little bit of quiet bragging, and not really tackling the issue bubbling away in the back of my mind. 

Put simply, at what point will I / we be randonneurs ?  Will I then cease to be a racer ?  Do I really need to label what we are doing anyway ?

Since October 2009 we have been collecting regular miles in order to register an entry to Paris-Brest-Paris.  If you are reading this, chances are that you probably well know the requirements of the country quota and ACP qualifying series.   This is accumulation of miles plain and simple, to be completed within a cut-off time; but for us, always with a reasonable lunch stop and coffee along the way.  It has been a wonderful way to spend hours on the road with friends, encouraging, sheltering and testing each other.  I guess this sort of experience is embedded in the spirit of randonneuring - exploring back roads by bike in good company. 

And yet I still consistently find myself drawn to the stories from an earlier time when Paris-Brest-Paris – the oldest of cycling events and the inspiration for the TdF – was a competition. PBP = Ride 1200 Kilometres in the fastest time.  Hmmm…in the fastest time.

I had known about this oldest of events because of Oppy ( and an obsession with biker journals ) for many years, but didn’t learn until recently that the 1901 winner of PBP was also the first TdF winner in 1903.  These early exploits, including Tarront's inaugural win in 1891 and Maurice Garin’s ride, must have literally electrified the collective public imagination of France at the time; human motivation connecting vast regional differences in unexpectedly short times by virtue of mechanical ( or maybe biomechanical ) advantage.  

Obviously a man of great stamina, patience and focus, Garin handlebarred his way across the European continent revelling in the longest, hardest road events.   Putting aside the self-conscious facial hair, heavy metal tights and dainty winners sashes, there is absolutely no questioning the athletic and mental hardness of character required to push a single speed - at speed - over dirt ‘roads’ for days straight.  However, noting Maurice is ( mostly ) just a slightly transparent ploy to add a little historical graphic content.   But thinking about the conditions faced by riders of this first boom era, and the personal qualities required of them, really underlines a train of thought.  

And this is mostly the point - stamina, patience, and focus underpin both road racing and long distance riding. 

Each are needed in equal measure – perhaps it is just that the motivation in each situation is different.  I’m set on this track a little because of a recent post by Bill Strickland – quoting Jean Bobet.  I’m also interested in understanding some of my own motivations and their potential for defining outcomes.  Bill / Jean describe the sensation of cycling as La Volupte, explained as something along the lines of ; speed and ease, force and grace.  With that little gem down, I’ll come back to Jean ( and probably Bill as he writes so evocatively ) another time, as it is yet another very eloquent distraction to the argument that I am having internally. 


Stamina goes without saying – racing 80 or 150, or riding 400.  Patience is always required - impetuous behaviour always leads to a collapse with the finish line in sight.  Focus is more nebulous, but there is no doubt that sitting in a bunch of 50 riders requires committed thought processes.  However, commitment is also needed to complete the final 100 of 600 after 20 odd hours on the road and 2 hours sleep.

Working together out on the road we have found ourselves fairly evenly matched.  What seems to work for us on rides are a series of jambs to milestone stops, with a pause to refuel then continue.  Speed coupled with conservation is the order, and this has, at times, lead to a rather interesting leap-frog game with other riders more intent on maintaining an average speed all day with very few stops.  There are shades of Jock Boyer at RAAM in this thought process – again, a topic for another day.  

Given our previous interests and background, is it a matter of discovering that ;  ‘ racers race, a randonneur tours’ ? 

Where am I going with this ?  I’m not going to try to define an answer today.  My intention is to raise a whole bunch of emotion and then leave you hanging.   Rather, I’ll come back to this little pet project as the year unfolds.   There are many inter-related stories to be told - some I've hinted at, others we've not lived yet.  Perhaps after PBP I’ll decide where I sit in the middle of all this.  Or perhaps I'll just return to pre-season dreaming...

Bon Chance.



Stopping Power

Thankyou Steven for risking a crappy day to sift through tables of rusty bits and pieces to haul in a veritable treasure trove of parts for us – and to the Abbottsford Cycles Vintage Bike Swap Meet for coming up with the goods at just the right moment.  I completely expected that Steven would come up empty handed, scant reward for getting a wet backside on the ride to and from the city.  But no, eight callipers, including two intended for fork mounting, plus a lever, plus another AW hub !  Christmas has certainly come early.   

I was frankly pretty excited to open up an email on the ‘phone on Saturday afternoon, having spent the morning swinging Callum on local playground equipment.  I had completely forgotten that I had alerted Steven to the swap meet date with a sheepish request to try to locate the brake parts required to complete our bikes in road format.

‘Mission Accomplished’ his note said, and there, pictured on the concrete floor of his shed was proof positive of a motley collection of ‘Philco’ brake callipers.  A bit of cleaning up and lubrication, some cobbling together of springs and cable adjusters should see the two fronts and two rears brought back to useable condition.  This will see the Whatley frame and Malvern Star equipped for use with a freewheel.  I just hope that the brakes can be adjusted to work a little better than their reputation would suggest…

Forum threads can be a fantastic source of information and also opinion.   Without having ever ridden with this type of brake, I am curious to find out at first hand just what they are like.  They do have a very 20’s cable-stop-lever-arm-and-set-screw appearance - completely un-aerodynamic and overly mechanically complicated.  In other words, quite theatrical and fantastic.   Opinion on the threads seems to run along the lines of particularly poor-to-non-existent stopping power, or even more alarming, either off or definitely on in modulation.  Fiddling with the calliper that came with the Aero tends to confirm these proffered opinions, as the hinged lever-arms operated by the brake cable seem to have a compromised rate of actuation – little movement at the brake pad to start with, as the lever begins it arc, followed by what would appear to be a little more movement toward the centre-of-swing, before petering out to a locked position as the levers reach the end of their travel.  The trick may be to find the sweet spot in the lever arm stroke that allows the most pad movement – by balancing pad position and cable tension.  Luckily, both are adjustable with a long and fine cable adjusting thread and moveable brake shoe retainers.

I have to admit that most exciting was the discovery of Philco’s intended for fork mounting – via clamps attached to the main brake-arm pivot points.  I had no idea that these existed.  The Aero came with a single pivot side-pull that uses clamps strapped around each fork leg to hold the assembly in place at the correct height, mount the return springs and ( hopefully ) reduce flex in the thin steel plates.  Similarly the discovered Philco’s use a system of fork blade clamps which should also reduce the amount of calliper flex when compared to the single mounting bolt of a rear set.  Wishful thinking I know, but at least the possibility is there. 

This chance find and astute pick-up by Steven has resolved something of a dilemma.  Having turned attention to the solution for braking, I had noticed that none of the bikes have a drilled fork crown to accept the mounting bolt for a brake calliper.  In each case there is a threaded hole in the rear of the crown – presumably for mounting either a full or truncated mudguard with a set screw.  I had been considering the historical implication of needing to drill the fork crown to accept a brake calliper, or whether Craig and I could live with the reduced braking performance of just a single rear calliper.  Drilling the fork crown of a path racer or track bike just doesn’t feel right, particularly as the intention is to run them in either road or track configuration, and my brain had been tossing around some ideas that involved contorted plate steel to replicate the backing clamps as found on the Aero.

Given the dubious performance reputation of the Philco, this may all prove to be a moot point, but two pathetic brakes have to be a little better than just one.  In my case, for added excitement, and due to a lack of identical pieces for all three bikes, I will need to use a Westwood front rim.  As I am the lightest of the group, and I highly value Gav and Craig’s wellbeing ( don’t want to be totally responsible for killing them ) they will each be set up using a pair of Endrick rims for maximum braking surface potential, while I will use a hybrid according to spoke hole drilling with Westwood front and Endrick rear.

So, a few hours of cleaning and adjustment, followed by some careful shaping of Koolstop pad inserts should see some stopping power, and kilo’s worth of steel, attached to the bikes so that they can be run with a freewheel.  Thanks again Steven – much appreciated.