Oh My Oman! “I have not told the half of what I saw” Seven hundred years after Marco Polo, and perhaps for almost seven hundred reasons, Oman is still relatively unknown. Too far for some, too exotic for others, too hot for many. But as ever, there are those that embrace a place for the very same reasons other ignore it. The UCI to a degree when they decided to include the Tour of Oman as part of the early season race schedule. The scenery was stunning but camera shots rarely ventured too far from the racing line. Unlike Axel and Andreas, fresh from breaking the world record for cycling the length of South America. More T.E. Lawrence than Tejay van Garderen, they travelled to put the final touches to BikingMan Oman, a 5 day, self-supported,1,000km event that will take place in 2018, and provide the ultimate test for our hot weather Micheline and Blandine. First stop, the aptly named Mountain Of The Sun. Jebel Shams is part of the Al Hajar Mountains, the highest range of the eastern Arabian Peninsula. Peaking at over three thousand metres, the summit provides views across Oman’s very own Arabian grand canyon and the layered colours and contours of this immense mass of rock. The strata in the rock tell a story of change over the ages but it's been said of the people here that they've always been born free and have lived free. Perhaps it’s a little bit of that freedom that cycling through Oman affords but as with life itself in this harsh landscape, liberty doesn't come easy – Jebel shams serves up a 23.6kms climb, via the odd 25% gravel gradient. It's for those who dare. Between the mountains and the coast lies the Ash Sharqiyah desert. This is not the famous ‘Empty Corner’ traversed by Wilfred Thesiger – the vast sand filled expanse that, to this day, is still largely uninhabited. Instead, the A'Sharqiyah Sands are the original homeland of the Bedouin who find solace and hydration at the “wadi” watering holes – oases often surrounded by swathes of date palm trees. Green sancutaries of freshness in the middle of the desert oven. Complete with camels, of course. The best way to see the desert but by bike is surely the next best alternative. Historically the high seas gave Oman its power and it was its position as a trading post that attracted the early explorers. Ras Al Hadd, which forms part of Oman’s 1700kms of coastline, is the perfect place to rest the legs after a hard day on the road. The great greenback turtles return to lay their eggs on the beach after a five year journey across the Indian Ocean. Set against that, five days riding, doesn't seem such a reach. Whether it's surfing a tailwind at 40km/h, marvelling at the forts and mosques, haggling in the souks or simply slowing to pass through a village and feeling the warmth of people astonished by the simple presence of a cyclist, there are memories here for a lifetime. You can choose the Alps, the trails of Tuscany, the black forests of Germany. And then one day perhaps you can cast your line a bit further and reach for Oman. “You have no idea how much is hidden from you by progress. How much hides behind a veil of our own reflective glory” About BikingMan Oman BikingMan Oman will take place in February 2018 with milder temperatures (around 25°C). Riders will have 5 days to complete a 1,000km loop, self-supported, from Muscat and around the Al Hajar mountains. Athletes will get the opportunity to explore the south-east Arabian Peninsula: the Hajar Mountains, the spectacular Jebel Shams Pass, the Ash Sharqiyah Desert and Arabian Seaside Roads. More info on BikingMan.com/OMAN

Monuments From the pave of Paris-Roubaix, to the Poggio of Milan San-Remo, from the murs of the Ronde van Vlanderren to the cols of the Giro di Lombardia, the big classics have written some of the most beautiful pages in cycling’s history books and given us some of the greatest champions from the glory years to the present day. François, Foucauld, Matthieu and Jochen decided to hit the road on a mission to ride, to feel and to touch the special places where these stories and heroes were made. For Café du Cycliste it was clear that this was a project worth supporting, together with cyfac, Strava and CLC Loisirs. And now the journey is published in a new book which doubles up as an invitation from the authors encouraging readers to travel to the most historic locations of the five Monuments and the one-day classics. Because cycling is never better than when it is shared with others. But not everyone can visit all of the classic parcours, so we posed the question; 'if you had to choose, which would be your ulitmate classics ride from the 12 locations you visited'. And of course, each of the Monument Men had their own personal attachment to different places. François Milan-Sanremo, without a single hestitation. Because it’s Italy, because for just over 100 kilometers, you have the imprression of nearly riding on the sea. Because there is the Poggio, a definitively romantic place. Beyond the bike, the Poggio is one of my favourite places. Foucauld For me, the Mur de Huy epitomises the speciality of the Classics, but I’m going to say Liege-Bastogne-Liege for its parcours in the heart of the Ardennes, through the uniquely dense forests. Jochen Paris-Roubaix. Because it was the first race that really made an impression on me as a photographer. Also, there is always a surprise with the light - it is always there, somewhere. And then there is the wind, the rain, the mud, the mud. The elements play an essential role, on the bike just as they do for the photos. And you have to do it with both. Matthieu If I really have to choose, I would say the Giro di Lombardia. For the landscapes as they turn to autumn, the topography and the crazy views of Lake Como. I like that is a slight cliché, a well-presented version of la Dolca Vita, with the vespas and the villas of the Hollywood stars like George Clooney. Texts – François Paoletti & Foucauld Duchange Francois is the author of Eddy, ma saison des classiques, released in November 2016. He is a regular contributor for several publications including JDD, magazine 200, Cycle! magazine. Foucauld is the designer and editor of the creation studio L’Impeccable. He previously published the magazine Passion and blogs at La Conjuration. He also contributed to the special issue of the weekly magazine Le 1, devoted to the Tour de France, and to Steel Magazine and 200 Magazine. Photography – Jochen Hoops Jochen is a photographer and founder of the Creative Hub Paris agency. With his team of photographers specialising in cycling and lifestyle, he creates visual and editorial content and collaborates with magazines and brands in the bicycle industry. Artistic Director – Matthieu Lifschitz Matthieu (as well as being a Café du Cycliste ambassador) is the artistic director of magazine 200, and founder of Manivelle the graphic design studio inspired by the world of the bike, and more particularly by long-distance brevets. Discover the full journey and see a unique view of cycling's most historic places in Monuments by purchasing it here Footnotes: Text: François Paoletti & Foucauld Duchange, Photography: Jochen Hoops

Chilkoot Safari « The Safari Rally was an event of such classic stature that only Monte Carlo can be safely said to be equal.” The east African round of the World Rally Championship somehow captured the imagination of competitors and followers alike in producing stories and battles that will be ever-present in rally folklore. What made the Safari car rally so iconic ? It was known as the "world’s toughest rally", that’s what. But is it capable of being replicated in a two-wheeled format, sans moteur ? That crazy band of pioneers at chez Chilkoot have decided it can and should be, just like they did with Rallye Monte-Vélo. Once again, the concept of this unique event was too tempting, so we packed our bags and our bikes and headed west. We might be out of Africa, but it was time to at least get into the spirit of Africa. THE PARCOURS The first element that distinguished the Safari Rally in Kenya was that the stages were the roughest the cars would experience all season. It had more in common with the Paris-Dakar Rally (that long-distance off-road challenge which now rather confusingly retains its name despite its move to South America) than it did with Rallye Corsica, for example. Desert savannah sand, the mud of the grassy plains and the sharp rocks of the unsurfaced road network all tested cars to extremes. It required a balance of speed and mechanical sympathy to nurse the modified cars through the long schedule of stages and for manufacturers it was an event where they could prove their metal. The Chilkoot Safari would be no different. The parcours included sand, gravel and mud. The first speciale through the sand challenged legs and bike skills, but combine that with stormy sea winds and the introduction was a harsh one. As the riders headed inland to the Le Massif des Maures things were only to became a lot rougher. This wild area west of Saint-Tropez gets its name from the Provençal word mauro, meaning dark pine wood. And in between the pines there is a network of gravel chemins forged by the local farmers and woodsmen who harvest the chestnut and other wood for various purposes including cork production. This road system was exactly what the Chilkoot band of pioneers were searching for. Tube splitting, tyre shredding gravel, stones and rocks awaited. Just like their motorised counterparts, the racers had to find a balance between speed and vehicle preservation. The fastest of the group punctured multiple times. Another competitor was forced to tape up his rear tyre which had partially stripped itself to the carcass. The mud meanwhile was spreading a disease amongst disk brakes. The grit and slime clogged calipers and melted brake pads resulting in a number of riders having no stopping power whatsoever. There simply was no solution to this other than to call in outside assistance, which came from the mission to recover a second Di2 battery which had been killed by the weather. THE WEATHER Kenya’s tropical climate and long ‘rains season’ meant one thing for the rally drivers and thier co-drivers. Humidity, heat, mud and running rivers. And long rain is exactly what the Chilkoot pioneers found as they congregated on the salines of Hyéres. If you search for images of the cars that took on the east African Safari, you will notice the adoption of the snorkel air intakes to cope with the river crossings and the floods caused by the tropical rains. Snorkels were exactly what riders needed the start of this bike safari. The water simply did not let up. And unfortunately some bikes let it in. One pioneer, xxxxxx, was running a high-tech bike – carbon frame, carbon wheels and Di2 electric shifting. When the incessant rain inevitably penetrated the frame this pioneer was quickly left with no gears and, like his rallying counterparts, had to attempt roadside repairs to the soaked battery and wiring. The Massif des Maures may be close to the coast, but the various crooks and crevices of the rocky formation and the density of the trees meant that, along with the rain, the temperature dropped quickly. Cold hands and the aforementioned lack of brakes led to an early abandonment on day one for more than half of the field. And so the pioneers decided that enough was enough and rolled together to Collobriéres, the village at the end of Jean Bobet’s first account of La Volupté. The bigger question on arrival was which patron in their right mind would accept this band of mud-caked, water-logged cyclists across their threshold ? THE NAVIGATION The Safari rally was the only event on the World Rally Championship to be run on open roads. This could be done because most of the extremely long stages traversed the wilderness, with no paved roads, and no directions. Getting lost was a common occurrence. Chilkoot’s bike safari followed the same format but could have as easily been described as a hunt. The riders blasted off the line only to be followed one minute later by the rider behind – being chased down thick wooded chemins, through heaving rain, mist and fog, attempting to find the right path at each junction. GPS routes had been provided for those with the technology but try reading a 5 x 2.5 cms screen in pouring rain whilst bumping over the large scale gravel of the Massif des Maures chemins. Otherwise, it was a case of memory and instinct having glanced at the roadbook, or alternatively waiting for the following rider and sitting on his wheel for the rest of the stage. Minutes were won on the descents, but lost again whilst we were, well, lost. THE REWARD The Safari Rally faded out as the cost of the uniquely longer and challenging event to the teams became too much and the modern format of rallies changed to become more compact and spectator friendly. The wild adventure in Africa was now an extravagance. But flick through the rally history books and you’ll see nothing but a rose-tinted view. Manufacturers regarded a win in East Africa as almost equal to taking the world championship. But just to finish one of motorsport's toughest and most rewarding adventures was to succeed. So much so, that there is growing pressure and rumours that it will be reintroduced in 2019. The Chilkoot Safari was only introduced in 2017 but for those who were there, who shared a beer on the return to Plage des Salins-d'Hyères, it should be the first entry in the calendar every season. Footnotes:Photogrpahy - Manivelle.cc & Bereflex Photogrpahy

La Volupté Jean Bobet est un Breton, un littéraire et à un certain degré romantique. Il a parfois eut des difficultés à aimer la profession qu'il a choisi, cependant le simple plaisir de faire du vélo ne l'a jamais quitté. Peut-être parce que c'était tout simplement le ciment qui l’unissait à son frère dont il était si proche mais pour sûr, c’est lors de ces jours où tout s'harmonisait qu’il a réalisé qu'il y avait peu de choses dans ce monde qu’il aimait plus que cela. Il l'a appelé "La Volupté" - "Le plaisir voluptueux que vous obtenez en faisant du vélo" - et il l'a trouvé, une fois, sur la Côte d'Azur. Relisant son livre, qui exprime si bien ce que nous cherchons à vélo, nous avons décidé de visiter l'endroit où "La Volupté" est venue à Jean et aussi mettre des images à ses mots. 'Ce qui en fait le charme, c'est l'inattendu, ce qui en fait le prix c'est la rareté. C'est plus qu'une sensation, c'est un sentiment parce que l'émotion y tient sa place autant que l'action' 'La volupté à vélo, c'est délicat, c'est intime et c'est éphémère. Ça vous arrive, ça vous prend, ça vous entraine et ça vous quitte. C'est à vous tout seul. C'est une combinaison de vitesse et de facilité, de force et de grâce. C'est un pur bonheur' ' Ce jour-là - un jour clair et frais de Février - je roule seul sur la Côte d'Azur. À la sortie du Lavandou, vers le massif des Maures, la route est montante. La pente est juste comme il faut pour ne pas trop réduire la vitesse, juste comme il faut pour me caler en prise directe, pour tirer sur la chaine le juste développement qui s'est imposé automatiquement' 'Je fais corps à corps avec le vélo ou bien le vélo est le prolongement de mon corps mais le vélo et moi ne faisons qu'un. J'enroule comme je respire, comme je transpire, tout en douceur. Je progresse, j'avance et je suis en progrès par rapport aux autres fois' 'La pente est juste comme il faut pour me maintenir en prise directe sur le grand plateau. Alors je roule comme je vire, tout en souplesse. Les châtaigniers défilent à mes côtés, la vitesse me siffle aux oreilles. Destination le Babaou et puis Collobrières, des lieux qui font rêver. J'ai tout: l'image, le son et l'imagination...' 'C'est fini, le charme est rompu... Mais trente minutes de volupté ça n'est rien. La preuve lorsque, à mon retour, Louison m'interroge, je réponds tout naturellement: Aujourd'hui, je volais' 'Demain on roule' est des livres à avoir dans la vie d'un cycliste. Si ce n'est pas le cas il est à lire et est disponible ici. Le texte est reproduit avec la permission de Mousehold Press avec les droits d'auteur détenus par Jean Bobet. Photographie: Antton Miettinen

La Volupté Jean Bobet is a Breton, a literary scholar and to a certain degree a romantic. He sometimes struggled to love his chosen profession, however the simple pleasure of riding a bike never left him. Maybe that was because it was the cement that held his relationship with his brother together, but for sure on those days when everything clicked he realised there wasn't much more in the world that he loved more. He called it 'La Volupté' - "the voluptuous pleasure you get from cycling" - and he found it once on the Côte d'Azur. Re-reading his book that so eloquently expresses what we search for on two wheels, we decided to visit the place where La Volupté came to Jean and put pictures to his words. 'Its magic lies in its unexpectedness, its value in its rarity....It is more than a sensation because one's emotions are involved as well as one's actions...' 'The voluptuous pleasure that cycling can give you is delicate, intimate and ephemeral. It arrives, it takes hold of you, sweeps you up and then leaves you again. It is for you alone. It is a combination of speed and ease, force and grace. It is pure happiness.' 'That day - a clear, crisp February day - I was riding alone on the Côte d'Azur. Coming out of Lavandou, towards the Massif des Maures, the road leads uphill. The grdient was just right: not slowing me down too much, keeping me tuned into the hill and the chain tension in harmony with the correct gear' 'Either I was part of the bike, or the bike was an extension of my body, but either way the bike and I were at one. I wound up the slope to the rhythm of my breathing and perspiration: softly and smoothly. I was making headway, advancing, progressing more than I had done before.' 'The gradient was just right to keep me tuned into the long plateau. Then I unwound just as I took the bends: effortlessly and fluidly. The chestnut trees flickered past on either side, on the way to the Col de Babaou and then the ancient village of Collobrières, places that set you dreaming. I had everything: the image, the sound and the imagination....' 'That was it, the enchanment had been broken, but 30 minutes of volupté is not to be sneezed at. The proof was that when I got back and Louison asked me how it had gone, I replied quite naturally: 'I was flying today' ' 'Tomorrow, We Ride' is one of the seminal books on life as a cyclist, both as a racer and a soul rider. If you haven't already, it is a must read and is available to purchase here. The text is reproduced with the permission of Mousehold Press and copyright is owned by Jean Bobet. Photography: Antton Miettinen

Rally Monte-Vélo RALLY: A LONG-DISTANCE RACE FOR MOTOR VEHICLES OVER PUBLIC ROADS OR ROUGH TERRAIN, TYPICALLY IN SEVERAL STAGES 11.30am on the 21st January and the northern side of the Giant of Provence is in the shade, the mercury indicates -5°C and the road is covered in snow and ice. As conditions for descending an 8% gradient on a road bike go, there couldn't be much worse. The pioneers of Rallye Monte-Velo just completed SS3 (that’s 'Special Stage', if you’re unfamiliar in the way of the rally) of the event between Bédoin and the route fermée barrier situated just 1km after Chalet Reynard. They are now on the ‘liaison’ between the end of said SS3 and the start of SS4, up and over the big bald mountain. The pilots slip slide their way down the north side weaving from side to side, sometimes deliberately to find the hard-packed line, sometimes not so deliberately as the fresh snow pulls on wheels and tyres. As transitions go, it’s extreme. It is, in fact, a mise en scene of the entire event. ROADBOOK: A DIAGRAMMATIC BOOK TYPICALLY USED BY RALLY CO-DRIVERS AND OVERLAND TRAVELLERS TO NAVIGATE BETWEEN STAGES. USUALLY, THE ROADBOOK CONSISTS OF SEVERAL PAGES OF TULIP-DIAGRAMS, GPS CO-ORDINATES AND WRITTEN INSTRUCTIONS TO ASSIST IN NAVIGATION. Chilkoot, the original band of cycling pioneers, gathered these seven rally pilots at Carpentras Gare SNCF and handed each of them a Roadbook in true rally style. The riders introduced themselves, and more importantly, their choice of bikes. One carbon road race machine played six cyclo-cross / gravel / adventure bikes. Tyres ranged from 28mm ‘cut-slicks’ (as they say in the motorsport world), 40mm adventure tyres, to Guilhem’s fully-studded ice tyres. Maybe his gravel crew had already recced the stages and he knew something the rest didn’t. LIAISON: AN UNTIMED SECTION OF THE RALLY ROUTE BETWEEN SPECIAL STAGES, SERVICE AREAS AND PARC FERMÉ. The first liaison found the 7 Pioneers arriving beside the walled outskirts of Crillon-de-Brave where the time keepers’ boards indicated the start of the shakedown stage. (Following exactly the format of the WRC event, the shakedown was a test stage run at full pace followed by the first stage of the competition under darkness) The shakedown route unravelled in the foreground, leading to Bédoin and above it the omnipresent Ventoux. It was a gentle introduction to the rally format, a test of man and machine. SPECIAL STAGE: A SECTION OF CLOSED ROAD AT A STAGE RALLY EVENT. RACERS ATTEMPT TO COMPLETE THE STAGE IN THE SHORTEST TIME. EACH COMPETING RACER BEGINS AFTER A SET INTERVAL, TO REDUCE THE CHANCE OF IMPEDANCE BY OTHER COMPETITORS. SS1...5, 4, 3, 2, 1….ALLEZ… Red mist and red lights. The first stage set the running order for the next day. Quickly it was clear the carbon machines and their pilots had more pace than the others over the humble Col de la Madeleine (not named after our lightweight jacket, which would come in useful as a fourth layer the following day and night). Riders attacked the tunnel of light in front of them, chasing the red flare displayed on the back of their fellow Pioneer who was up the road. Find the biting point in your legs and hang on up and over the Col then ride the limit of safety on the descent. This. Is. Fun. PARC FERMÉ: A SECURE CAR PARK WHERE COMPETING CARS MUST BE LEFT, AND WHERE NO MAINTENANCE, REPAIRS, OR ENHANCEMENTS MAY BE PERFORMED.Times verified, roadbook entries completed, the 7 Pioneers rolled as a group to Malaucéne for dinner and then on to Parc Fermé. It so happened Parc Fermé was in the tent where the Pioneers slept… in minus 4 degree temperatures.... Martine bib tights and a cosette base layer have never been so much appreciated. In a true rally-style, the late night and early morning start test the physical and mental strength of the pilots. The roadbook stated that the first rider would start SS2 at 0800hrs - time-trialling before breakfast on a night of broken sleep. This event is très sérieux. POWER STAGE: THE 'POWER STAGE' IS THE FINAL STAGE OF THE RALLY. ADDITIONAL WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS ARE AVAILABLE TO THE THREE FASTEST DRIVERS THROUGH THE STAGE (REGARDLESS OF WHERE THEY ACTUALLY FINISHED IN THE RALLY), WITH THE FASTEST TEAM RECEIVING THREE POINTS, THE SECOND-FASTEST RECEIVING TWO POINTS, AND THE THIRD-FASTEST RECEIVING ONE POINT. Okay, Mont Ventoux was not the final stage of Rallye Monte-Vélo but it was definitely the definitive one for the overall classification. After SS2, the Pioneers find time to warm themselves in the kitchen of Bédoin’s only open boulangerie. This boulangerie is a microcosm of rural provence. Five old men from the village sit beside the wood fire oven, resolving the world’s problems as the Pioneers grab a quick caffeine shot and a pain au chocolat before rolling tentatively to the start line. CO-DRIVER: A PERSON WHO NAVIGATES FROM THE FRONT PASSENGER SEAT.We could have done with one of these at Chalet Reynard. Having slogged the 11kms of hellish gradient up through the forest, a navigational error had us questioning where the finish line boards were. Stage winner, Denis, came roaring up behind to alert us to the fact that we were heading to Sault and not the stage finish. We guess one hour at threshold in January will do that to you. Result – 2 minutes gained and one place on the general classification at threat. MAXIMUM ATTACK: TO DRIVE A RALLY CAR TO ITS ABSOLUTE LIMITS. TRADITIONALLY USED BY SCANDINAVIAN CAR DRIVERS WHOSE FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH TO DESCRIBE THAT THEY ARE DRIVING AS FAST AS THEY CAN, HOLDING NOTHING BACK.With the power stage and aforementioned epic liaison done, the 7 Pioneers made their way to the next group of stages. On paper these specials all seemed simple affairs compared to the power stage. But the foothills around the Giant of Provence undulate like a stormy sea, and Chilkoot had chosen the parcours to really bite the legs. Rally drivers often describe the 'red mist' descending in competition. Seeing the pilot in front depart, the anticipation of the stage after reading the roadbook, the countdown from the time keepers all contributed to a maximum attack mentality. 'Full gas' riding was to the be theme for the remainder of a very long day. In motorsport terms we were ‘bouncing off the limiter’ on every stage. SERVICE: THERE ARE USUALLY THREE SERVICE PERIODS DURING A WRC DAY – 15 MINUTES IN THE MORNING, 30 MINUTES AT LUNCHTIME AND 45 MINUTES IN THE EVENING. TEAMS CAN PERFORM REPAIRS OR MODIFICATIONS TO CARS DURING THESE PERIODS, AND SELECT THEIR TYRE CHOICE FOR THE FOLLOWING LOOP OF STAGES. At the arrival of SS6, we were in need of an oil change or we were definitely going to blow a gasket. As dusk approached and the temperature returned back towards zero, reports from up the road warned of ice. The commissaire decided saftey was paramount and cancelled the final two stages and go straight to service. That service happened, happily, to also be the night’s Parc Fermé in a maison de chasse in the absolute middle of nowhere. A 30kms liaison split the group of Mercenaries as those with less clothing sped up to reach the support of the service crew. Cold beers, charcuterie and the best daube de sanglier in the world awaited in the kitchen full of a mixture of cooking utensils, hunting memorabilia and hard, hard liqour. Engines were being well and truly refreshed and stories from the days’ rallying cleaned air and oil filters with laughter. PODIUM: A STRUCTURE CONSISTING OF THREE ADJACENT PLATFORMS OF DIFFERENT HEIGHTS, ON WHICH THE COMPETITORS FINISHING IN FIRST, SECOND, AND THIRD PLACES RECEIVE THEIR AWARDS. On the last day podium places were awarded and prizes – lovely big bottles of Velospohe beer – were handed out. But this was a pioneer event and the 7 Pioneers had taken the plunge into the unknown and come out the other side with nothing but respect for one another (and disdain for the organisers….) Rallye Monte-Vélo is a unique event in a legendary setting. 95kms of special stages (effectively time trials in cycling terms) with 145kms of liaisons, around and over the incredible Mont Ventoux. In January. It will either kill you, or make you stronger. Chilkoot have an entire calendar of events, each one as imaginative as the other. We will be following the action and bringing you more reports from the feats of the Pioneers throughout the year. Footnotes: Photos : Manivelle.cc / Chilkoot / Gaetan Maurin / Mikael Gagne

What is an Alp? 7 Peaks: One Answer What is the definition of an alp? Or a set of ‘alps’ for that matter? What does it mean to be Alpine? A proper mountain, high enough to be barren of trees, rugged and rocky with a picturesquely snowy peak? Or is it just a singular piece of Toblerone chocolate? Joking aside, surely an alp is part of ‘the Alps’ – the great mountain range that traverses France, Germany, Switzerland, Romania and Slovenia. Wrong. You can find alps in lots of places. Including way down south, in Australia. Newsflash: Europe does not have the monopoly on alps. Allow us to introduce to you the Australian Alps. Our antipodean friends have their own collection, and they are big. Very big. For reference, the plateau on top of the Australian Alps is merely the southern part of the Great Dividing Range and is larger than Switzerland (that’s all of Switzerland, the entire country). And like any other reasonable group of two wheeled masochists, the resident cyclists of Victoria in the south western corner of Australia gaze upon the peaks above and understand that they have to be scaled by pedal power. As naturally as these mountains were formed, so came the 7 Peaks Challenge, an open relaxed brevet style event inviting local and visiting cyclists to climb the seven major Victorian Alpine roads totalling 8,000m of elevation gain. That’s nearly an Everest. What alpine roads are these? Mount Baw Baw, Lake Mountain, Mount Buller, Mount Buffalo, Falls Creek, Dinner Plain (!?) and Mount Hotham. Not Alpine names for sure. At least not as we know them. Enter stage left a Dutchman. Who mostly rides on the flat and in bad weather. Martijn is more famous on Instagram as @imagehunters and inventor of #werideallweather. Whilst he favours (or is maybe forced to favour) the colder weather, that hashtag obligates him to seek out the heat too. And mountains that are alps but not the alps, if you follow the logic. We connected him with the great people at Le Knicks, our Melbourne retail partners who’ve been serving Australia’s cycling mecca for longer than they care to remember and the game was afoot. The European Alps were an act of violence. The Australian Alps, by comparison were borne from a slow divorce, or continental parting of ways. They sit on top of a flat and smooth plateau that was lifted up by a river of magma below. The alps Down Under were pushed up from….down under. They’re vast, more gradual than their cousins and ultimately, lower (topping out not much over 2,200m). Being the son of former professional (dad Peter was a classics rider and is current coach of the Dutch Olympic cycling team), Martijn has of course completed the obligatory pilgrimage to the European Alps. Alpe d’Heuz – bien sûr. Col de la Croix de Fer - bah ouais. So these Australian Alps are going to be meet and drink to a seasoned continental adventurer, yes? Cut to the final 6.4kms of Mount Baw Baw and the first of the seven ascents. Average gradient - 13%. That is a very strong entrée to this feast of Australian alpinism. Hemingway seems apposite and worth repeating. Especially when you’ve travelled one thousand miles for the privilege. “It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them.” There’s more of the sweat at the start of the second climb, Lake Mountain. Nine to ten percent gradients in the first five kilometres. There is no joyful Hemingway coasting, but eventually things do begin to become smoother, if far from flat. Higher up still, these foreign (to us) alps begin to take on their own unique character. Alpine Ash trees creating a unique Australian alpine backdrop even in the abnormally damp conditions. Served up, perhaps, as a welcome from one alp to another. But as Mount Buller and Buffalo are scaled before a 1am finish, the two riders who started the day as strangers both know that’s unlikely to last. Some Alps are hotter than others. And some are hot enough to melt the heel supports on your shoes. The second day brings forth three more peaks, Falls Creek, Dinner Plain and Mount Hotham, and 38 degree heat. This is Australian alpine style. Hot roads, hard climbs, eagles and wolves replaced by wombats and koalas. And over 100 kilometres of uphill riding. Every Alp, no matter where you find them, has the capacity to kick like a mule. Like those that go in search of them, all alps are different. Each is unique in some detail or other of their character and yet beneath this the core concepts remain. The ups and downs, peaks, valleys, switchbacks and high altitude vistas. The geology and geography may change but the challenges they set remain the same. As do the the riders who roll them.

The Cuneo-Monaco Classico 2016 Trains, plains, and...gravel bikes. The second edition of the Cuneo-Monaco Classico was made by pioneers for pioneers. Part cyclo-sportive, part audax, part pizza and beer festival, the guys at Chilkoot know how to throw a bike party. And the rules are, there are no rules (if you like it that way). There is a beautifully crafted route map sure, but don't follow if it you want to get to Stars 'N Bars for beer in Monaco as quick as possible. Ah, Monaco. It's an interesting juxtaposition to have 23 adventuring free-spirits rendez-vous at Saint Devote, the first corner of the Grand Prix circuit. Swap your Jaguar for your Jaegher bike, add luggage and facial hair. This ain't no champagne party. That said, some riders had appropriate eyewear for the 'Principality'. How do you stress an Italian train conductor? Add 23 bikes to the small train that snakes its way up the Roya valley and through the Tende tunnel to Cuneo. Two and a half hours was plenty of time to geek out on the kaleidoscope of bike flavours brought by the Parisians, the Alsaciens, the Italians and the Azuriens to tackle the 156kms of bitumen and gravel the following day. We've said it before, pizza is perfect ride food. Fact. Personally, we are flattered that our Italian partners who meet us in Cuneo order the same simple buffalo mozzarella style. Tomato and cheese, why complicate it further? Bierra Moretti completes the scientific preparation for tomorrow's roll-out. Piazza Tancredo Galimberti, Cuneo, zero seven hundred hours. Possibly the only time you don't risk fatality with Italian drivers doped to the eyeballs on doppios. And a fitting place for individual portraits of each and every pioneer to be taken. Zip up your Jacqueline gilet, say cheese and....ride. 40kms on the plain of the valley and no-one is helping Simon on the front. He's on a fixie riding into a 10kph head-wind. Stupid is as stupid does? Chris, fresh from this year's Transcontinental (there's another juxtaposition) shames everyone else and takes over. Tende from the Italian side. Normally round here roads on the Italian side of a mountain climb the same elevation in a much shorter distance than their French neighbours. Tende is an exception to the rule. It's a much more open, much better surfaced version to cater for Limone ski resort. When was the last time a descent was harder than the ascent? And that descent turned our respect for Thierry, also on a pignon fixie, into either uber-respect or mocking humour. Not sure which but as he's traversed both the Alps and the Pyrenees using only his 47/17 gearing, we'll opt for the former. Certainly, watching him try to navigate the gravillons of the first 4kms of the descent controlling his speed through the pedals gave as fine an appreciation for the freewheel and the disc brake as you'll ever have. Chapeau Thierry (and Simon) Unfortunately brakes did not save Alexandre from 'pioneering' into a car in the Roya valley at 60kmph. Broken bike, broken collarbone. As you can tell from the picture above, his sense of style remained unbroken. Coolest post-car crash cycling profile ever? Courage Alexandre.... The Brouis and Braus col combination was brilliant but bruising. Arriving in Sospel meant only one valley away from beer, yes? Not on this route. The best gravel lay above, on the easily missed left turn opposite the René Vietto memorial at the top of Braus. We meet single-speed Simon in the restaurant at the top. He's having to take a moment. Long live the freewheel and the 10-speed cassette.... The gravel chemin between Braus and Mont Ours is such a delightful experience, legs almost recover and a strange re-grouping of the lead pack occurs on a remote section of tarmac where usually hunters stake out the wild sanglier. It's comforting to hit the second half of the Col de la Madone together. But the fourth and final Col is anything but comfortable as the elevation gain ticks past 3,000m. Motivation comes from knowledge that the next section is a fast 30km descent to cold beer on the other side. From the first corner, to the last corner.... we freewheel (except Thierry and Simon of course) past La Rascasse, the final turn on the grand prix circuit to find table reserved for us in Stars 'N Bars with a sign-in book to record your time. Arrival 1605 hours, first beer finished 1606 hours. The super-yachts sway behind the group of pioneers, having been used maybe three or four times by their owners this year. Most of our bikes parked in the bar are ridden every day. One final juxtaposition.

South America bites Axel and Andreas are a dangerous pair of cyclists to be around. There is no such thing as ‘impossible’ for this Niçois duo, as exemplified by their ambitious start to 2017 – attempting to beat the world record World Record Attempt for cycling the entire length of the South American continent. Are they crazy? Undoubtedly. Could they do it? Maybe. Did they do it? Read on….. THE COLOMBIAN AND ECUADORIAN ANDES I had been longing to ride in these lands again after my first crossing of South America by bike in 2015. I had been training hard for a year on the French Riviera with Andreas, my friend and riding partner for this crazy adventure. I never missed an opportunity during our early training to describe to him the far-out feeling of riding on this continent. At 5:45am on January 1st, we left Cartagena Police station in Colombia to start our world record attempt to ride the entire length of the South American coast, finishing in Ushuaia in Argentina in less than 58 days. We were well prepared physically, our bikes were built for long hours in the saddle and we had brought all the gear we thought we needed to ride under extreme weather conditions. We slowly learnt that in the Andes it wouldn’t be enough. This country kept all the promises it had made me in 2015. A good dose of spectacular mountainous scenery, cycling from the hot Caribbean coast to the tropical Andes of the Dabeiba region. Colombian people welcomed us as if we were sons of their country (it sometimes took us about 20 minutes to leave lunch stops after four warm goodbyes to the people we met there!). We also understood how Nairo Quintana had such strong legs: Colombia hides some pretty nasty climbs. On dirt roads or in tropical conditions, those climbs might lead any European to stop at every bar to beg for their amazing local juices or famous Agua Panela (water and unprocessed sugar). Juices made from local fruits felt like heaven and were the sweetest way to replace the fluids we lost as we sweated out most of the water we had in our bodies. On top of discovering how to cope with the searing heat, we learnt how to fix a Di2 wire which had been cut in two pieces and crossed a forbidden tunnel for bikes thanks to the gratitude of an understanding Colombian. As we passed through the equator in Ecuador, the temperature dropped from 35 degrees to eight in one day. The sun hid behind every volcano we passed by. The Cotopaxi peaked out from behind the clouds for a few hours before our final Andean climb to reach the ‘Ruta del Sol’ on the Ecuadorian coast. Cycling on the coast felt like Mad Max. Our 30-centimetre-wide cycling lane was mined with holes, dead tyres and dead animals of all sorts. We spent days zigzagging between traps and yelling at truck drivers who desperately wanted to kiss our Open U.P. bikes with their HGVs. At the end of each day, we exchanged a “I’m glad we survived this mayhem” look…And with each passing morning we got more impatient to reach the Peruvian border, mostly because the Ecuadorian rain soaked us and our gear from head to foot! LESSONS FROM PERU AND CHILE In one day of riding, God stopped the rain and we rode from tropical banana fields to a no-man’s land desert in Peru. I had driven the whole coast from south to north in 2016 during the recce for the IncaDivide race. Guess what? Driving was easier. Picture a hostile desert 2,400 kilometres long, with never-ending hills, a constant head wind and some sections of 120 kilometres or more without a single soul around. Then add some nasty ingredients, such as food poisoning, heavy dehydration and cramps. Mix this potion together and you will start believing in God, or at least look to some higher spirit for outside assistance while riding your bike. I can safely say I took my body to the other side on an epic 12-and-a-half-hour ride through this Peruvian melting pot. “Peru was supposed to be easy,” Andreas kept repeating. We had a hard time maintaining our daily goal of 200 kilometres or more. We eventually made peace with Peru after passing the southern city of Nazca, where we rode on spectacular coastal hills with breathtaking sunsets. But just to remind us never to underestimate this country, we endured the strongest headwind of the trip so far on a 35 kilometre stretch to reach the Chilean border. Ahead lay the toughest section of our world record attempt: the Atacama desert and Paso de Jama border crossing with its three passes, all above 4800 metres. We dug unexpectedly deep to beat the most arid desert on Earth. Despite the tailwind and good weather (although we experienced one hell of a snowstorm at 4,600 metres), the infamous Paso de Jama was the toughest climb we experienced: steep, long, high, remote… and exquisite. The hardest part was not to stop every five minutes to take a picture of these inhuman lands and the Licancabur volcano. Few cyclists have had the privilege to ride here, and we enjoyed every bit of this section. During our first long climb in the Atacama desert we ran into something extraordinary. As we approached a parked truck half way up the 1,500m climb we noticed something bizarre. The truck was named 'Axel y Andres' ! We couldn’t believe it. There we were, in the middle of nowhere, climbing a never ending mountain in 42 degree heat only to find a truck with our names on it! We took it as a sign. There was no way we wouldn’t break the record now. Our first stop at a pharmacy in Chile was hilarious. The couple who owned it took care of us as if we were about to die. Indeed, their diagnosis was hard hitting: I had been taking the wrong antibiotic for days, causing the worst diarrhea of my life. We were both 99% dehydrated, which explained the cramps. Andreas was advised to buy new sunglasses as his eyes looked like something from The Exorcist. We stopped earlier than planned that night, to heal ourselves. Gatorade, pizzas and the right antibiotics felt like a rebirth! THE ARGENTINEAN LOTTERY We had 4,500 kilometres to go, and it would all be within one single country: that gives you an idea of the immensity of Argentina. Our time there started with some altitude sickness and power naps on the side of the road. As we passed by Salta, we started to push harder. Up to this point in our ride, our days were mostly focused on covering the required distance without killing ourselves, physically or mentally, and until now we had (almost) succeeded in this task. Argentina blessed our legs as we crossed the Quebrada de las Conchas and the Cafayate wine road. We were in heaven cycling these stretches with unbelievably stunning landscape cordillera mountain landscapes and unique mountain colours. The infamous Argentinean wind was waiting for us after this Garden of Eden. We started for hours, days on the legendary Highway 40 which crosses the country from north to south.We were tired of the wind whipping our faces for hours and the taste in our mouths got more bitter every day. Eventually we made the choice to head to coast to see if the wind would change. Our gamble happened to be successful as we mostly rode with a tailwind enabling us to complete several days of riding that exceeded 300 kilometres. The only downside was being condemned though to stare at each other’s back wheel: it was the most impressive thing to look at in the Argentinian Pampa. In 2015, arriving at Tierra del Fuego after eight months of touring the Andes, definitely lacked panache. This time, as we got closer to our final goal, we had one thing in mind: each day should be more challenging than the previous. This craziness led us to one final mother of all rides totalling 417 kilometres on Tierra del Fuego, crossing the whole island in just 24 hours. We battled heavy humidity and freezing temperatures through the night so that we could witness a final sunrise as we passed by the wooden stalls at the entrance of Ushuaia city, just a few blocks away from the fire station we stopped at to stamp our arrival. This arrival will be remembered as one of the most epic rides of our lives....so far… What had we done? Why did we do that? Going from the excitement of just having to ride our bikes all day to the suffering through the elements, dealing with the illness and riding on average 12 hours each day. Most of this craziness was decided during our casual early morning training. We were dreaming of something big, longing for adventures and South America happened to be an extraordinary one. There aren’t many places in the world that combine such a variety of landscapes, weather conditions and interactions with warm people. What we’ve learned from this experience is that physical pain can be dealt with, mental weakness can be overcome. Finding the positive in the people you meet and the beauty in the landscapes you traverse are the best coping mechanisms. For many cyclists it seems that pushing to the extremities of your own capabilities is irresistible. Why? Because it’s there to be done of course.

Farō Farāre Farum In this internet (of things) age, this weird, wired and wireless world, the idea that the most powerful recommendations are still those delivered face to face might be considered a radical concept by some. But it’s clearly the Velo Pavé way and the proof of the pudding is, as always, in the eating. We sent our own Dane Jackie north to Farum to take part in the Vélo Pavé Café du Cycliste 100 Women’s ride, with the 100 of the title referring not to the distance to be covered but the number of participants. You have to ask yourself : when was the last time you saw a peloton of 100 (or a close as dammit) female cyclists other than on the TV ? Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that Jackie was the ONLY new rider in the event. Every other cyclist in the group had already been absorbed into the female cycling scene curated by Vélo Pavé partner, Carsten and his wife, Mette, the resident expert for any and all the questions and demands from female cyclists that come Vélo Pavé’s way. She’ll ride with one or 100 cyclists. Just as long as she rides. And like her husband, she is a firm believer in the advantages of a well regimented group ride whilst at the same time being fully aware that sitting in the wheels for the first time can be a nerve racking experience. The guidance offered covers every element from cleat choice to cadence, from saddle height to multi-tools and, of course, to attire. Globally speaking, the climate in this part of Scandanavia might be described as ‘temperate’ but from our vantage point ‘au bord de la mer’, it ranges from ‘quite’ to ‘extremely’ cold for most of the year. Average temperature in February? Zero degrees celcius. Which helps explain the abundance of merino long sleeved Yolandes and Claudettes along side the abundance of pre-ride pastries (or Danish, or course). Inevitably the route to this point is slightly different for everyone, there’s no one size or one road fits all here. But certain themes emerge about how so many female riders have converged in this way, at this time and in this place. And whether it be after starting to ride in nearby Copenhagen (slated, after all, as the most cycle friendly city on earth), after accompanying husbands, boyfriends and partners or simply moving from two feet running to two wheels rolling, there’s a real sense that however the fire was lit, the flames were soon burning brightly. Fanned of course by Mette and Carsten and Vélo Pavé. Their passion and enthusiasm has played a significant part, along with their attention to detail. Evidenced on this particular day by the four (yes, four) motorbikes which clear the road ahead and lead out the peloton along with the support vehicles bringing up the rear, dispensing mechanical aide and non-mechanical encouragement in equal measure. And perhaps too that climate is actually a help rather than a hindrance. Because the brooding skies which lend the landscape an ethereal quality all of it’s own and threaten to pour forth at any moment or the wind which blows in four directions at once and tries to rattle teeth, feel every bit as much a part of the ride as the riders themselves and brings with it an added, and unbridled, sense of adventure. In a way that’s what Velo Pavé have created more than anything, in that distinctive face to face way of theirs, in a town in the north. A place to adventure from, a place to strike out from against the elements. Alone, in smaller groups or in an event such as this. And a place to return to when spurs have been won and spirits enriched . Maybe that’s why almost one hundred female cyclists, who got here from almost the same number of different directions, have done all of that and more today.

La Mercan’Tour notes from the field Build it and they will come. Last Sunday a huge peloton of cyclists joined the marmottes, the eagles and (slightly worringly) the wolves in the Mercantour National Park for the first edition of 'Europe's Highest Sportive' Now that the feeling in our legs has returned and enough pain au chocolat have been consumed to replace the used energy, it’s time for the debrief. PATROL SIZE & COMPOSITION 375 inscriptions was reduced to 290 courageous souls ready and waiting on the start line in Guillaumes. The reduction was most likely due to adverse weather forecasts - have you been in a rain storm at 2,715m? It usually turns to sleet and snow.... 11 different nationalities were represented with notable entries from our Italian neighbours and 3 young Englishmen who made a 72hr round trip from Roast Beef land that included a direct drive home after the event. 5 different age groups ranging from 18-29 to 60-67 rolled out. Michel Roux not only won the 50-59 age category but came 4th overall, just 6 minutes and 30 seconds behind the winner. Age is clearly just a number to Michel.... MISSION – TYPE, LOCATION, PURPOSE OF PATROL Type. This was a high mountain assault on three fronts; Col de la Cayolle (one of France's most beautiful passes), the famous Col de la Bonette (France's highest pass) and Col de la Couillole (the lesser known sting in the tail that last featured in the Tour in 1975). Location. The battle field was located in the heart of the unrivalled and untouched beauty of La Mercan’Tour National Park, with the most fierce engagements taking place above 2,000m. Some attacked the course like any other, but others took time to savour the fact they were riding through a 360º panorama of pure mountain glory. Purpose. To combine the beauty of cycling with the beauty of the location, an exclusive parcours that has only ever hosted professionals before. To test those fit enough to race over 180kms and 4,600m (or 119kms and 2,700m) – essentially a Grand Tour parcours either way. For most it was a personal distance and elevation challenge - physical and mental resistances were put to the test in equal measure. TIME OF DEPARTURE AND RETURN Exit Guillaumes at O SEVEN HUNDRED THIRTY hours. Return at Guillaumes for the Petit Parcours – 3h:50m:57s for the fastest and 8h:02m:40s for the 119th and last rider to return. The successful rider was therefore travelling at twice the speed of the final finisher, an average speed of nearly 30km/h is pro rider pace. Return at Valberg for the Grand Parcours – 6h:12m:53s: later for the vanquers; 10h:46m:11s for the Lanterne Rouge (more of this to follow via the media office in due course). That's 4.5 hours of a difference between the leader and the last man. An average land speed of 28.8km/h. By comparison, stage 21 of the Giro averaged 31km/h over 134 kms. Impressive for people who do not get paid to pedal. ROUTES OUT AND BACK (& CHECKPOINTS) A straight run due north up the Col de la Cayolle and the first checkpoint at the summit. Before then a grenade went off just after Entraunes when the road rose upwards, and the battalion was split into smaller teams who re-grouped and kitted up on the summit. Checkpoint 2 was on the long descent towards Barcelonette and the first food station. Wiser soldiers took on the saucisscon mini-baguettes before travelling to checkpoint 3. It was on this leg that the enemy tactics of mouton blockades became known. Valley transition number 1 between Barcelonette and Jausier – the low ground with wind was known to be an area of vulnerability. Smarter soldiers were hiding in the wheels. Checkpoint 3 and the feedstation above 2,000m beside the lake on Col de la Bonette. The terrain was beginning to bite and a fuel stop was essential for all but the elite group at the front. Checkpoint 4 – the summit of Col de la Bonette. The advance party was out of sight by a long way. Valley transition number 2 between Saint-Etienne-de-Tinee and Saint-Sauveur-de-Tinee. T eamwork really came into play amongst the various groups formed in the field. Checkpoint 5 – Roubion feedstation. A soldier’s metal had been tested to get to this stage. The slowest and longest 5kms of the mission. Checkpoint 6 – Col de la Couillole. The final summit. Or not as it transpired. One more hill to get to Varberg. DESCRIPTION OF TERRAIN AND ENEMY POSITION The terrain was unencountered in a battle scenario for all riders. Only elite troops had been permitted to engage over the same land in the recent Giro d’Italia stage 21. Nowhere else in the Southern Alps are such large scale obstacles encountered. Analysis shows a total of no less than 57kms of constant uphill cycling amongst the 180 of the grand parcours. That is not insignificant. The lack of oxygen above 2,000m proved to be the toughest test ever faced for most soldiers. Road surface ranged from billiard table smooth to freshly laid gravel, unfortunately the latter coming at the end of the 24kms descent from Col de la Bonette (which took place in sleet, rain and 0 degree temperatures for some) The enemy had smartly located double-digit gradients together with cramp snipers at various unexpected locations on each uphill obstacle. Snow placed on the top of the first two Cols also lowered temperatures to weaken resistance. Shards of rock had been placed at random points on the road by the enemy to test rubber, together with aforementioned gravel. Dirty tactics. RESULTS OF ENEMY ENCOUNTERS Some soldiers failed to make the time cut after the first uphill obstacle and were turned back to base (not without a reverse climb back over Checkpoint Cayolle). The cramp snipers took a number of victims at various locations in the field. Some were able to weather the storm, others (circa 60 in number) succumbed to the pain. But morale remained high and they will return for next year’s battle. An unexpected enemy tactic was road blockage with mouton barricades. This caused a time threat but otherwise was a largely ineffective ploy. MISC INFORMATION & MAP CORRECTIONS One soldier reported that his GPS device read 4,734m rather than the indicated 4,600m on the mission statement. This could have been due to meteroloical interference. Or possibly the additional 6kms of (mostly) ascent from Beuil to Valberg. Snow on the 19 June can - and does - happen at this altitude. Variable temperatures and conditions tested every soldiers’ ability to pack sufficiently without over-loading for the uphill obstacles. Kong Fufu is human and can be beaten. CONDITION OF PERSONNEL Seargent Majors Christophe Menei and ‘Lolo Le Leon’ remained professional throughout despite their huge organisational efforts required to pull off such an ambitious field experiment. The troops were, to a man, completely physically drained. No flesh wounds were recorded. Some my need treatment post-mission for adverse reactions towards their two-wheeled equipment during the coming weeks. But overall, morale at the finish was a high as the Bonette summit. CONCLUSIONS & RECOMMENDATIONS This was the ultimate mountain mission on a unique testing facility. It must be repeated next year to reap the benefits of this year’s efforts. Thanks to press officer Felix Lowe and James Carnegie who took care of photo media for the day. Most impressively Officer Lowe completed the entire mission whilst also discharging his press duties, and will be filling his report with Cyclist magazine in the coming months

Moto mode The café racer was born in London at Ace Café with one simple but fantastic idea: drop a coin into the slot of the jukebox then race on a classic ‘out and back’ route to a defined point before the record finished. Such illegal and rebellious behavior got bikers a bad name in the area. Fear and loathing of two wheeled joyriders caught on quite quickly amongst other road users in the capital city. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, the legend goes that the Boozefighters Motorcycle Club (as club names go, maybe one of the less subtle options) started the 1947 Hollister riots that inspired story of the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club headed by Brando in The Wild One. The origins of the iconic jacket from those café racing and booze fighting days bore its staple features – black leather, diagonal zip and collar. Schott NYC was and still is founded on the design that found its way on to the shoulders of Mr Brando. The mould was set for a lot of followers. But despite Brando’s huge influence on popular perception of the mode moto, other fabrics were adapted by competition riders. The most challenging of competitions, the International Six Days Trial, required a flexible, durable jacket to cope with Europe’s ultimate test of motorcycling. The wax jacket was adopted for its ability to deal with the water and mud of the six day epic. And, as happens with fashion icons, like the polo shirt and the chino the name of Mr Steve McQueen enters the frame to propel it onto the world stage. A genuinely great and fanatical rider as witnessed in Bruce Brown’s On Any Sunday, McQueen rode the Six Days for his country only to be taken out by a spectator. His jacket undoubtedly saved some injuries – something a real biker takes for granted, but the details in a jacket are also what appeal to those looking for an edgier style. And that edge was adopted during the punk era and a certain Sid Vicious. Films, legends and also real-world riders had ensured that such jackets were as tough in construction as they were by reputation, with the added benefit of being a unique style to counter the mainstream outer layers. Vicious reportedly requested that he be buried in his. Today the café racer scene has infiltrated the mainstream with many of the big manufacturers including BMW, Ducaiti and more recently Yamaha all releasing ‘factory’ custom machines to follow the trail blazed by custom specialists such as Roland Sands and Deus Ex Machina. And with every clip-on handlebarr-ed machine comes the styled jacket. Bicycles may never carry the edge of the café racers or the Hells Angels but the counterculture ethos in what still remains a minority sport is prevalent in the attitudes and stylistic tastes of many cyclists, as exemplified by a certain Mr Wiggins. And city riding can express that style in a way that lycra or merino cannot. Our Geraldine jacket for cycling the city is a nod to the style adapted by the café racers, by Brando, by Sid Vicious. And as Esquire said, 'As cool as Steve McQueen? If he rode a pushbike, this is what he’d wear'.

The wet sculptor Trying to escape from water in Ireland is like trying to block sunlight in Provence. You can try all you like, but it’s not going to go away any time soon. Growing up I learned quickly that when it’s not raining, that just means it’s going to rain. As a cyclist in Ireland the role of water is legion, shaping landscapes, mindsets, chainring teeth, and of course as a main ingredient in ‘post-ride recovery drinks’. Where I ride you can’t escape water, whether it’s in your face, in the numerous lakes and rivers, or shaping the valleys and hills that shape the contours, that shape the roads, that shape the legs, that shape the mind, that shape your view of the world around you. Now don’t get me wrong, I love cycling in heat. Climbing Mt Ventoux in 41c was enjoyable - seriously good fun and the heat stress was quite bearable. If I could, I’d live in a Catalan village seared by the sun. But here’s the thing, I sleep with the bedroom window open and hear the weather before I see it, and the sound of rain makes me excited about riding a bike. I don’t wait for the rain to stop, I try to get out the door before it stops. For me there is only one necessity and that’s warm hands and feet, the rest be damned. Or damped. My training rides are almost all within the catchment area of the River Blackwater which rises in the hills of South Tyrone and makes it way to Lough Neagh, the largest lake in the UK – if you look at the map of Ireland it’s the eye of the dog. On its journey it passes through towns and villages where I can grab a coffee. It passes under bridges I sheltered under as a child, fishing in the summer rain, having cycled there with friends. Take yesterdays ride. Meeting two club mates in Benburb village, high above the Blackwater gorge, we could hear the rapids below as we started riding west. To cut 110km short, we crossed the Blackwater three or four times, then took a left turn and traced the route of the Fury River from the hills above the Clogher Valley, crossed the border into the Republic of Ireland, crossed the aptly named Mountain Water river, back across some flat roads into the North, over the Blackwater again, and again. Over the Callan river which in the past had been littered with water-powered mills bringing an income to many and a fortune to few. Past numerous lakes, pretty much all within the catchment area of the Blackwater, and back to the village of Moy where my club are based - and which sits on the banks of the river. Whilst it didn’t rain (much) on the ride yesterday, we got home drenched by the landscapes the rain produces. The green vegetation, the rocky river gorge of the Fury, the Blackwater plains and floods, the valleys and hills that have to be crossed to move form valley to valley. I sat behind team mates with muscle shaped by rain as much as the landscapes we rode through. Minds washed by rivers we never swim in, just by riding alongside them - therapy by the gift of sound and vision. A few riders I know start each message about a ride with a statement about the weather as if it matters and should dictate saddle time. Is your ride affected by the rain in Ireland? Yes, for sure, even when it isn’t raining.

Winter training on the Côte d'Azur In the mid 1950s, Apo Lazaridès, a famous French domestique whose time in the peloton was coming to an end, had a brainwave. He bought a hotel and mini golf resort on the Mediterranean near Saint Tropez: in the summer, his clients would be tourists; in the winter, cyclists. Though he was from the north of France he’d trained and raced on the Côte d'Azur his whole career, and he knew how the mild, sunny winters and empty, challenging roads through the back-country hills above the coast, were a perfect foundation for the season ahead. Word quickly spread through his contacts in cycling and soon a colony of pros formed. Raphaël Géminiani brought his Saint Raphaël team and a young Jacques Anquetil; Louison Bobet, his Mercier team – it became quite the fashion. There had always been early races in the south – local races like the Boucles du Sospel and the Mont Chauve hill climb in Nice, Marseille-Nice and, further east, the Monaco-Mont Agel – but with the influx of riders wanting to find form and test their legs these grew in importance. For stage racing there was Tour du Var, the Tour du Sud Est, the GP du Midi Libre in the Languedoc and of course the jewel in the early-season crown, Paris-Nice. These days, it's not so fashionable to have your training camp on the Côte d'Azur. Tenerife, Mallorca, Calpe, even Rimini are more popular, though you still might find Cofidis on a stage in the Esterel national park near Cannes. But the good weather and the roads are still significant factors that attract pros to live around Nice, or on the stretch of coast from Cannes towards Saint Tropez. (The others are the good international airport and, for the mega rich, the tax-free life in Monaco.) Astana has a significant base here, as does Team Sky. Chris Froome, Richie Porte, Ian Boswell and Joe Dombroswki all live in Nice or Monaco, where they’re joined by BMC’s Philippe Gilbert and Thor Hushovd, as well as riders from Cofidis, FDJ, QuickStep and many more teams. In the winter they can often be seen on the road together, riding for a companionable cappuccino just across the border in Italy. Sometimes in Nice in the off season you'll see team cars parked on the streets, as if the soigneurs, mechanics and other staff are enjoying a little break. For recreational cyclists, too, it’s a paradise in the winter months. The local fashion, particularly among older cyclists, is to cover up in bulky jackets and tights or leg warmers from late September until April, but in reality, if you stay near the coast, you'll barely need more than a good long-sleeved jersey such as Yolande even in the depths of winter. Inland, it quickly gets colder, and the weather more temperamental, but on the first wrinkle of hills and mountains by the sea, it's possible to ride up almost to 1,000m altitude all year round. Just remember to take gloves and a gilet for the descent!

The voodoo cycliste High on the climbs and cols above Nice, a crime spree had been taking place. Out of sight but not out of mind, an anonymous rider was snatching Strava KOMs more effectively than Burke and Hare ever snatched their bodies. There was blood on them there roads… Ignore the poetic licence for a moment and consider the cold, hard facts. At one point, Ce…oops…Kong Fùfù held over three hundred and eighty KOMs in the Cote d’Azur and Alpes-Maritimes. I’m going to say that again, three hundred and eighty, more than one for every day of the year on routes that must surely be some of the most competitive anywhere on the planet. The area is brimming with pros living and training, using famous climbs and not so famous cols to put the miles they need into their legs before and across the season. “Living in Nice there is a high density of both climbs and professional riders, which makes the KOM times on Strava quite competitive locally. It's not that most pros are looking to go take down KOMs on Strava in training, but we all train on the climbs and by default, we'll end up setting some fast times.” Joe Dombrowski, Cannondale-Garmin And that’s before you even consider the thousands of high quality local club riders and the myriad of enthusiasts who travel here to ride from the four corners of the globe. But who is he (I’ll give you that scrawny bone for free), this stealer of records, this hunter of pros, this magical Magua of the mountains? “Honestly, at first, I thought that Kong Fùfù was just a pseudonym for one of the local pros. Not every pro rider wants their identity on Strava known, so I know of several guys in the area that will post under pseudonyms.” Joe Dombrowski, Cannondale-Garmin Like Roswell, Atlantis or who killed Roger Rabbit, the lack of any firm information only deepens the mystery. The clamour for answers creates an echo louder than the original voices and conspiratorial theories arrive to fill the void. A never quite made it pro with a grudge against those who have? An instrument created to unsettle riders from rival outfits and knock their confidence? Or one whose purpose is actually motivational, to drive team members to train harder and climb faster. Was Kong Fùfù really just a marginal gain wearing our new gloves? Rumours were rife and stories abundant. Of him going head to head and neck to neck as a young (ish) MTB rider with Jean-Christophe Peraud who has a third place finish in Le Tour to his name, of him leaving Sky’s go to domestique and sometime team leader in his wheel and of him riding away from another pro who only a few weeks later went on to finish fourth in the Paris-Roubaix. And still it went on. “Occasionally I'd get the 'Uh oh! Kong Fùfù has stolen your KOM on climb 'x' email” Joe Dombrowski, Cannondale-Garmin Of course it sounds implausible, improbable and down right incredible that an amateur can keep such company but when you consider that his time for the Col de La Madone is only two minutes shy of Chris Froome’s, it becomes clear that this is a rider who can mix it with some of the very best climbers in the world. Yet despite the mass of, often contradictory, information, the single most important question remained answered. His identity. To be continued…

Batteries Included When we are 75 years old, if we haven’t retired to Tahiti and are still living on the Côte d’Azur, we would like to hope we can continue to ride to the summit of the Col du Turini on a regular basis.  The truth is that sometimes we struggle enough already to make it to the top so realistically by the time we hit 75, the 1607m of elevation might be out of reach.  Unless of course, we have some assistance. Whether you are coming back from a long break from the sport, recovering from injury or have just seen too many birthdays, the eBike can open up a world of possibilities.  Alternatively, if your local roads or trials are becoming over-familiar and you want to escape to the next valley, mountain range or province, with motor assistance you can go further and higher with the same effort required on a traditional bike.  And once you realise this, then any possible stigma you attach to a bike with electric motor assistance quickly fades away - it doesn’t just have to be a way of getting around town without sweating in your suit! Put simply by our friends at Moustache Bikes, “An e-bike is a bicycle with additional functions that make riding simpler and more enjoyable”. Moustache are one of the innovators of the eBike industry and their name epitomises their inspiration - French heritage of design and function, personified in the classic handlebar ‘moustache’ shape that made city bikes so comfortable. For them the cycling industry has lost sight of the utilitarian aspect of the bicycle and it’s time to refocus. Their range of urban, touring, mountain and road bikes take their names from the days of the week when you might need them most so, for example, their mountain bike is called Samedi (for weekend fun) and the practical urban bike is called Lundi 26 (Monday 26 speed). Perhaps the most significant bike in Moustache's history, the Lundi's main purpose was to 'keep the car at home' - the original and main objective in the company's early days. But they are always seeking to push the envelope and as part of their continual development, they decided to take on the best of rest of the eBike industry at Rad am Ring. Rad am Ring is a 24 hour race run on Nürburgringʼs legendary Nordschleife, or ‘Green Hell’. Throughout its history since original construction in 1925 it has claimed many lives and some estimate that over 200 drivers or riders have raced their last kilometres at the ‘Ring. It is a fearsome place, with four possible configurations which can give a longest lap of 28kms. The eBike race was run over a parcours of 25kms which required 500m of climbing each lap, through legendary corners such as Fuchsröhre ('Fox Hole'); Bergwerk ('Mine'); and Caracciola Karussell ('Carousel'). A perfect test of machinery, just as motor giants such as BMW and Ferrari have done before them. Six months after the initial planning began, Moustache’s Dimanche 28 was sprinting into the lead of Rad Am Ring within the first 500m after waiting for a delayed start due to biblical weather conditions that threatened the entire running of the race. The Moustache team of four riders were all experienced racers, but only one of them had previously competed on an eBike. It was a learning curve in all respects and the team soon discovered how to find the balance between human effort and letting the Bosch motor (designed and made in Epinal, Northern France) do the work. Nowhere was this more apparent than on the 27% (yes, that’s 27!) ‘wall’ between the legendary 'Karussell' and 'Hohe Acht'. And they adapted well as they led for the majority of the first half of the race, before being overtaking by the Chinese ‘Bafang’ team. In a cycling endurance race such as this, consistent pace is the key. Moustache’s lap record exemplifies this with 40-42 minute laps for the entire race proving that once the rider perfects the balance between human effort and motor assistance, speed and distance can be maximised. In the end the Moustache Bikes team came away with second place. Extremely admirable for their first attempt on the race but knowing them, they will not be satisfied with anything less than the top step of the podium and will be back for more next year. Here at Café du Cycliste we will be keeping the Moustache activities firmly on our radar in the constant search for all things new and different in the cycling world. Café du Cycliste provided Moustache with classic Josephine bib shorts, silk and merino Louise jerseys and lightweight Madeline windproof gilets for their Rad am Ring endurance adventure.

Toute la nuit As a graphic designer, Matthieu of Manivelle.cc sees the beauty of cycling through creative eyes. His inventive mind couldn't help itself and he devised 'Toute La Nuit' - a 260km night ride from his home town of Marseille to our new Café in Nice to prepare himself for the challenges he faces on this year's Paris-Brest-Paris Brevet. If I were to sum up this last night out on the roads of the French Riviera, here are the words that come to mind: a sunset, an Istanbul Kebab, a funfair, the Milky Way, a fox surprised by my headlight (I think), the hairpins, dawn on the Corniche de l'Esterel, the Croisette and a welcome arrival at the finish. In order to maintain my endurance fitness and try out some new accessories for the upcoming Paris-Brest-Paris race, I decided to embark on a night ride from Marseilles to the cycling stronghold that is the Café du Cycliste, located in Nice. For a route, I opted to follow the coast as far as possible and so at the stroke of 8pm, I find myself at the top of the Col de la Gineste. I briskly make my way through all these familiar roads where I used to train so that I can ride along the sea at dusk. Once I’m there, I alternate between the main road and the sandstone bike path. The night quickly becomes black, and after a stop-off for water in a Toulon Kebab shop (the only open shop with drinking water along the way), the route alternates between fast deserted roads and street lamps that twinkle in the distance like marine lights. It’s Monday night, well past midnight, and the summer season hasn’t quite begun so it’s rare to see anyone else along the way. And so much the better. These roads seem like gifts: empty, and mostly in very good condition. A sequence of bumps keeps my headlight beam on its toes, giving me the sensation of steering and speeding blindly through a heady Milky Way that I haven’t witnessed since the BRM 600. The somewhat troubling soundtrack of wild animals makes me cross my fingers for no flats. In that regard, luck was on my side . This time around, I made sure to take my time. I don’t mean that I slowed to a leisurely crawl; I came to a complete stop to indulge in the simple pleasures of cycling. That’s to say, stop, shoot some pictures or just take a few minutes to drink in one of the countless panoramas while nibbling on the food in my musette. I also made sure that I was all on my own (apart from the sea beside me), a required precaution for my senses when riding at night. It’s the perfect weather, with moments of fresh breeze, and so it’s in short sleeves that I begin the sublime L'Esterel Corniche at sunrise. Surrounded by a glassy sea and a landscape worthy of an old western film, I don’t cross paths with a single soul whatsoever until arriving in the next town: absolutely magical, 'my' road. In the same way that the sun rises, the human body tends to wake up at the same time, providing a second wind to push through the journey and arrive exactly on time. La Croisette, its luxury shops and its sleepy municipal employees who prepare the film of the day see me whiz by like a ghost ... I won’t stop until I reach the port of Nice. It was at exactly 8am that I arrived at Café du Cycliste. Coffee in hand, I finally discovered the place I had only seen under construction and I can only admire the work done by the team to create a truly welcoming space: outside of coffee (or tea for that matter), there is a series of gleaming bicycles available for hire, a mechanical workshop, a bike wash station (very cool idea!), and brand new changing rooms. The café is certainly the perfect ambiance to meet with other cyclists and exchange about all kinds of adventures!

Riding through a Walt Disney film It's only after two nights of riding and not sleeping that the hallucinations start, says Michel. They come first in that moment between day and night, when your eyes are trying hard to make sense of the lengthening shadows. Michel, you might remember, rode the Mille du Sud 1000km ’Brevet’ in 2014, and wore his Josephine bib shorts for 59 hours while doing so. Animals run around at the corners of your vision, he says: telephone poles become people, and you are suddenly surrounded by an enchanted forest. Even without hallucinations, long-distance Brevet rides are a magical experience, Michel says. Dawn at the top of a remote col or riding through the crashes and bangs of a thunderstorm at night are unforgettable experiences. The birdsong just before dawn or passing from the pitch-black silence of night on a country road to the noise, smells and colour of a village en fête, with food cooking over an open fire, wine flowing and all the residents dancing in the square. Michel doesn't fear the hallucinations when they come. He enjoys them and feels safe. 'It's like riding through a Walt Disney film,' he says. This summer, he is riding the 1100km Paris-Brest-Paris, and has his sights set on London-Edinburgh-London in three years' time. We'll be outfitting him with classic Josephine bib shorts, merino Violette jersey and our reflective Lucette gilet to make him visible during the night.

Gourmet cycling One day we’d love to see a heat map showing the global movements of photographer, Harry Engels. His most recent jaunt was in the company of Stefan from Pannier.cc and Danny out of Always Riding, one of our excellent retail partners. The trio escaped London and headed west, almost as far as you can go without needing a boat, for a four day, 200km ‘all you can eat’ cycling tour of Cornwall. It turns out that it's a county with a good claim to being one of England's best-stocked larders. Combine that with coastal roads and single track lanes, camping out in God's green country and the occasional visit to a local pub and you’ve got all the ingredients for a fantastic trip (pun intended). The “DO one thing well” mantra echoed around the modest walls of Jelberts in Newlyn: one tub of vanilla ice cream; one pot of clotted cream; and one counter. The only option was how to combine the ice and clotted cream. A pot was easier than a cone for us because we could stow them in our handlebar bags whilst we rode around to eat them on the harbour front. As we sat over the harbour wall with our delicious ice creams, made by the Glover family’s dairy farm, it was easy to imagine the harbour-side bustle earlier in the day as the boats came with their morning’s catch into one of the UK’s largest fishing ports. Even then, in the calm after the storm, flocks of seagulls squawked frantically and forklifts busied themselves dumping used ice into the harbour waters. With our fresh mackerel from Stevensons strapped to Harry’s rack, we pedalled west along the coast. Mousehole was the first port of call – one of the many quaint Cornish villages whose harbour wall shelters a fleet of small fishing boats that bobbed around in the afternoon sunshine, having headed out in the morning. Riding up and along the quiet coastal roads out of Mousehole, Harry and I were quickly reacquainted with the ‘Cornish Mile’ – a steeper and longer version of a traditional mile – as the roads track the relentless coastline and rolling hills. Riding out of Lamorna Cove was the steepest section we rode that day; we noticed how steep it was when Harry’s Garmin auto-paused. Even after our short ride, we were ready for our seafood dinner. After meeting Danny in St Just’s central square, we went to pitch our tents at the Secret Garden campsite in Bosavern before riding in search of a beach to cook on - cooking equipment strapped to our racks. However, after following the South West Coast Path for a while, we soon realised how inaccessible the beaches on that part of coastline were; we resorted to finding a spot on the cliff tops before the light went… The three of us cracked straight on lighting a small fire, with the kindling and firewood we had collected over the course of the day, and preparing our food. We gutted and washed the two large mackerels before seasoning them with lemon, the ‘Pepper’ Cornish Sea Salt, and lots of parsley. Once we had our small fire at the right temperature, we grilled the fish for a couple of minutes to start before parcelling them up in foil with more seasoning and putting them on the ember bed. In the meantime, Danny opened a variety of St Austell Brewery beers and we handed them around as we listened to the fish parcel bubbling away and sea crashing over the rocks below. After ten minutes or so, a sneaky peek under the foil let us know it was OK to get our sporks out and get stuck in – the delicious moist flesh scraped easily off the bones as the sun went down over the Celtic Sea horizon. Our remote Cornish cliff tops location, meant the mackerel tasted even better.

A point on the atlas The Atlas Mountains stretch across more than two and a half thousand kilometres of North Africa and top out at over four thousand metres yet despite this scale and obvious majesty, they can often seem under appreciated when compared to some of the world’s other great ranges. Providing a natural barrier between Europe and the Sahara desert, they nestle close to Mediterranean in Tunisia and almost touch the Atlantic in Morocco, a country I’ve been to regularly over the last decade to surf and fallen, at least a little bit, in love with. My first visit was with a very old friend and almost as soon as we arrived we found ourselves at Taghazout’s Anchor Point battling waves far too big for either of us to handle. My surfing has gradually improved and whenever possible I’ve taken the chance to return to a land of mild winters, mint tea, orange juice and a refreshing nonchalance. The latest opportunity came very recently but this time I’d be packing my bike rather than my board and the first decision of many to make about the trip was who to invite as a travelling companion. In truth it wasn’t a hard choice to make. Despite all the miles I’ve put in over the years, on some days I still struggle to call myself a ‘cyclist’ (or a surfer for that matter) but I wouldn’t hesitate to call my dad one. And I mean a bone fide, genuine, no doubt about it, cyclist. He’s never raced, never even been a member of a club and yet cycling has shaped not only his body but also whole swathes of his life. Starting before I was born and continuing to this day, he’s averaged eight thousand kilometres a year and each and every of those kilometres has been for the pure and simple pleasure of being on his bike. Riding is how we spent a lot of our time together as I grew up and the reason I became hooked. On countless rides in my native region of Alsace I’d return sheltered from the winds in his wheel and struggling with those endless last few kilometres. Often eating his energy bars or wearing his wind jacket, exhausted but still obsessed about staying within 10cm of that wheel. Always totally reliant on his unerring ability to avoid potholes, make the correct turns and eventually bring me home. Without him I like to think I still would have discovered my passion for riding but who knows? So now, on the challenging passes that reach two thousand metres and more, it was finally my turn to pay back just a little piece of that ‘debt’, to ride out front and return the favour. Replacing energy bars with delicious dates and bananas and energy drinks for that sweet mint tea. Not that he needed me to of course but in truth that was never really the point. In reality I was simply looking forward to introducing him to a country I know well and that he was yet to discover but even that wasn’t quite as simple as I had imagined. In contrast to Anchor Point, which when I first went there was still known for its anchor factory and relatively quiet but which is now a world renown break with surfers flying in from around the globe whenever the forecast is promising, the mountain roads and tracks we explored for our four days remain almost untouched by the outside world. We didn’t see a single other cyclist of any description and at most saw one or two cars an hour as we rode in our summer jerseys and bib shorts in February (!) and then layered up to battle strong northern winds which made the temperature drop despite the constant sunshine. For those who like to ride off the beaten track, who enjoy a bit of adventure and whose bikes can handle some mud and rough roads, the Atlas Mountains deserve serious consideration. For my dad it was an introduction to Morocco while for me it turned out to be a re-introduction to the more serene and unspoilt Morocco I first visited so many years ago. And it was all the better for that.