This week, QUOC announced a two-year sponsorship deal with World Tour pro icon Geraint Thomas spanning the 2024 and 2025 race seasons. This partnership marks a significant milestone for QUOC, aligning the brand with one of the most distinguished and respected figures in professional cycling.
]]>This week, QUOC announced a two-year sponsorship deal with World Tour pro icon Geraint Thomas spanning the 2024 and 2025 race seasons. This partnership marks a significant milestone for QUOC, aligning the brand with one of the most distinguished and respected figures in professional cycling.
With QUOC having dedicated over a decade to crafting quality shoes that blend performance and comfort with unique aesthetics, the collaboration with Wales-born Geraint Thomas underscores the brand's ambition to inspire more people around the world to experience the innumerable benefits of riding bikes, a cause close to Thomas' heart. Known for his remarkable achievements including his Tour de France win in 2018, Thomas brings a wealth of experience and knowledge of cycling which will be invaluable in the continued development and refinement of QUOC's product line, ensuring that the shoes not only meet but exceed the expectations of elite and everyday riders alike.
The partnership came about when Thomas and his team came across the brand by chance, and read the backstory and mission behind the brand. They had a desire to work with a British brand and in QUOC found a new challenger in the cycling field, a brand with a fantastic design and one of the most important factors, a collaborative approach to partnerships.
Founder Quoc Pham said of the deal, "We are thrilled to welcome Geraint Thomas to the QUOC family. His achievements speak for themselves, but it's his commitment to the sport and passion for helping others along the way that we feel really embodies the spirit of cycling. This partnership is more than just a sponsorship; it's a collaboration that we believe will not only improve our product and elevate ride experiences, but also inspire more people to get out and ride."
Geraint Thomas also shared his enthusiasm of the partnership, stating, "It's a great feeling to be able to finally announce the new partnership we've established with QUOC - a British brand with a major focus on aesthetics and design, as well as performance. As soon as I saw the range I knew they were the brand for me - and to have a British partner makes it all the more special as I ride these final two seasons as a pro. For me, what stood the brand apart was Quoc's story from fashion designer to shoe maker, the team's love of bike riding from top to bottom throughout the organisation, and their mission to get more people on bikes - something that massively overlaps with our mission at the Geraint Thomas Cycling Trust. I look forward to discussing how we can further collaborate in that area, as well as on the road."
The partnership is set to kick off with Geraint Thomas wearing QUOC shoes in his upcoming races, showcasing the brand's highest performing road shoes on a global stage. Additionally, QUOC and Thomas will collaborate on a series of special edition products and charity initiatives designed to engage and inspire the cycling community.
Photography: Tristan Cardew
What is bike fitting?
Bike fitting is the science and art of assessing individual rider needs and setting them up for the type of cycling they want to undertake in the most optimal way for their own unique body composition.
Every rider is different, and no two bike fits are the same. This means that there is not a one size fits all approach to setting people up. Copying something a pro has done or making a change that a friend advises isn't always advisable and can often cause you more problems than you are trying to solve.
Your body is not isolated parts, they are connected and even the smallest adjustment can change your kinetic chain and alter things you would not normally link. This is where the skill of a Bike Fitter takes over.
As a bikefitter, I like to describe the process as a journey of discovery for you and me as we work together to find your optimal setup. In my mind, not only should you leave with some adjustments to your bike (if needed) and a smile on your face but I also like you to leave with a greater understanding of how your body works and reacts to changes in your bike setup.
What role does the foot play in a bike fit?
We always start with feet, and I would recommend that any bike fitter you seek out should take a good look at yours. Your feet are arguably the most important part of your body when it comes to bike fitting. The point at which the power you have generated transfers to the bike is critical to get right and ensure you are not wasting watts and most importantly not causing yourself any potential harm, injuries and worse keeping you off your bike.
So how do we ensure your feet are setup properly? Well first off, we take a good look at your shoes. Most cyclists that visit me often have purchased their shoes based on price and colour online and no other considerations taken. They have never had their feet measured for length and width and purchased unseen and not tried on. Most people are not even sure what to look for in a good cycling shoe. If you are then read on.
How important is getting the right shoe fit?
When I ask my customers "what if I told you that you could improve your performance at a small cost compared to most bike components?" usually eyes light up at the prospect of some new super-secret technological advance, which then suddenly turns to amazement as I explain to them that their own shoes are not correct for them. Of course, some people's shoes are perfect for them but often this is not the case in the studio.
If I had followed my dad into the family business, it would have seen me become the 5th generation of shoe repairer. I spent my weekends growing up helping dad in the shop repair shoes and finally learning how to size feet correctly and adjust them utilising stretching machines and hand-crafted wedging. The walls were covered in boxes of shoes of different sizes and types to find you the perfect fit. You were greeted and asked what sort of shoe you would like before trying on different styles and seeing how different shoes compared.
This all now seems like a distant memory with the digital age of online purchasing and next day delivery. This experience however has been a valuable tool when setting up CORE Bike Fit. Ensuring you the rider compare shoes and how they feel first hand when selecting them is an important part of the bike fit process and experience. If you're not comfortable it's not right for you and how would you know without comparing options?
Education on shoes from me over the next challenge to overcome is the thought that they are just shoes. I like to describe cycling shoes as an essential part of your bike, a component, rather than a clothing item. This helps the rider understand the importance and shift the mindset on shoes. This is always invaluable, and I spend a lot of time on this.
What do I look for in a good cycling shoe?
A good set of stiff soled shoes, with a toe box that is wide enough, most are not. Adjustable cleat locations and the correct support are all key ingredients to getting your feet setup as the foundation of your bike fit.
Throughout my personal independent testing, I have found QUOC to match my requirements and found that their range of shoes at different price points coupled with my experience and flexibility of my own custom adjustments make them the best cycling shoe brand to work with.
Of course, this is just the first part of any good bike fit and the process extends further than just feet and shoes, but my thoughts always come back to #Focusonyourfeet. If you get that right the bike fit process is much easier.
It is always my recommendation to get a full bike fit from an independent professional with an approach that you are comfortable working with to ensure you are set up safely and correctly for the type of cycling you want to achieve.
QUOC's Bike Fitter Recommendations:
Photography: Andy Donohoe & Harry Powell
San Francisco is most famous for its landmarks, neighborhoods, rich history and diverse culture. What we’ve found from our visits over the years, is that it also hosts an unrivalled and alluring cycling community.
One minute you’re climbing 15% gradients, the next you’re flowing through a national park after crossing the Golden Gate bridge, finishing up with countless coffee and pastry options once you’ve come to a stop.
]]>One minute you're climbing 15% gradients, the next you're flowing through a national park after crossing the Golden Gate bridge, finishing up with countless coffee and pastry options once you've come to a stop.
San Francisco is a special place to be a cyclist and we wanted to share some insights from riders close to QUOC, who live and breathe not only the city, but the culture that comes along with it.
Adventurer Maude Farrell has raced bikes professionally since 2021. Looking ahead to the 2024 racing season with her place in the newly-announced PAS Racing team, her focus will be firmly on gravel and long-distance mountain biking. When not training, you can find Maude mixing it up with backcountry skiing, running, or taking over the world within the electric vehicle space.
Maude's Insights into San Francisco:
"I've lived in the Bay going on 9 years now. My entire cycling career and history is rooted here in the Bay and that is not a coincidence. Living in San Francisco, you are enticed at every perch by the Marin Headlands - a nationally protected park of sagebrush, coyotes, wide gravel fire roads, and the glory of Mt Tamalpais.
Within an hour of pedalling from the density of the city, you can be at the foot of this 3,000ft mountain and access endless miles of trails and waterfalls. Even without crossing The Bridge the options for riders in our relatively small (7 miles by 7 mile) city limits feels like 20 different universes stitched together by dirt paths, single track, and protected bike lanes. You might need a local to squeeze out all the potential of the city loop, but the best part of SF beyond its access is the community of people waiting to welcome you with any flavor (length, intensity, or style) of ride you could possibly imagine."
Maude's Recommended Ride Route
City insights from Matt:
"I have been practicing architecture and living in San Francisco for over a decade. There are many reasons the city is great and the cycling here is a big part of that for me. I can enjoy living in a vibrant urban environment and ride from my front door to some of the best riding in the world in about 30 minutes. Just get across the Golden Gate Bridge and a whole new world opens up to you. If I had one route from SF to show a visitor, this would be it. A mix of all the good views, the coast, Mount Tamalpais, pavement, and dirt. You'll want a bike with 32-34 slicks for the best time."
Away Message
Away Message (AM) is a unique blend of athletes, creatives, and producers, all united by a shared passion for venturing into uncharted territories. Their mission is to bring more people to the sport of cycling by showcasing it in a way that is fun, fast, and captivating. They ride hard and push into the unknown - but never at the expense of a good time.
What AM had to say:
"San Francisco is special - it's simply a stunningly beautiful area. The hills, the weather, the parks, the architecture, and the people, all help make any outing feel extraordinary. We're still in awe of the number of routes we can hit straight from our doorstep, whether it's 5k or 500k, the city offers too many options to ride despite the press, its still an outsider's city - you're really encouraged to follow your own path and Away Message wouldn't exist without the city's counter culture mindset inspiring us to start something for ourselves."
AM's Local recommendations:
Danni Shrosbree (29), hailing from London, started and progressed her cycling career on the road, having ridden for CAMS Basso/DAS-Handsling, but has since shifted her focus to competing in gravel and ultras. Here's how Danni sets her goals:
2023 has been a pivotal year for my progression in the sport, especially in the gravel world, with lots of time spent over in the US and Europe, racing against the biggest names in gravel. 2024 is shaping up to be even bigger, and it's more important than ever for me to set clear goals and work towards them. A lot of it comes down to the planning of setting goals. I tend to look at the year ahead and map out what my key target races are and then build a solid plan from there. If you've got a key event, rather than a race, highlight it in a calendar, write it down and work backwards from there.
Plan your training around your goals
Working on a training plan that is specific to that event or race will help you focus on how you tackle your training. For example, if I'm looking at Unbound as a target race, I'd be looking to add more volume and focus on my endurance training. For a specific road race, I’m going to tailor my training to focus on shorter and more explosive sessions. Working backwards from your main goal allows you to tailor your training and ultimately, gives you more focus. It helps to map it out week by week, too.
Keep it fun
Setting goals can sometimes be the easy part, sticking to the training to hit those goals can be the hardest thing to achieve. I would always try and encourage people to fit fun things in, rides with mates or some adventures that split the training up. I've always raced and performed best when I am relaxed and enjoying myself; it should be the same with training. Give yourself mini goals, too. Any little win that you can make in the run-up will keep the positivity high (something I am all about)!
Adapt
It's important to have a plan in place to help you achieve your goals but try not to get bogged down with sticking to it. Life can always get in the way. You can always adapt as you go, but sticking to a routine is important and breaking down the training plan into weeks makes it easier. If you have a week where things get in the way, try and see how you could shift things around the following week.
Holding a Masters Degree in Cycling Performance, Laura Gallardo Gracia is an experienced coach and talented athlete, providing personalised cycling coaching to clients across the spectrum of ride disciplines. She gave us some tips on how she goes about reaching goals.
Set reachable and personal goals
"The goals you want to achieve must be reasonable for you. For example, if you never have done a 100k race, maybe it's not a good idea to think about doing an ultra-distance race very soon. Maybe it's your personal goal to get into ultra cycling because it's something that caught your eye and motivates you to get into cycling, but try to focus on smaller goals first, and growing slowly, you have all your life to do it! ;) It's important as well that the goals are personal and don't get yourself into something that maybe is trendy or that other people are doing."
Be sure to enjoy the process
Sometimes we get into something that we saw ourselves doing, but we don't think about all the work and commitment we have to do to achieve it. So be sure that before getting involved in something you will enjoy the process of training, being healthy, the nutrition, getting good sleep, etc. Sometimes in races, everything can happen, having a mechanical, a crash, bad weather, or sickness can make you DNS or DNF at the race. Making the process enjoyable, getting fitter, and preparing mentally for this, is important as it will help to deal with that frustration. The race will most likely be there next year.
Be consistent
If you enjoy the process, it will be easier to be consistent in your training. Its very important for any goal in life (and this is one of the best lessons we get from sports) to work constantly to achieve your goal. Sometimes we dont need to train every day, because we all have other duties, and essential to keep our social/family life cared for, but one thing for sure is that we need to be consistent in training if we want to do well.
Visualisation
Thinking about reaching your goal can motivate you for days when you feel lazy! So a visualisation of you doing the race or event, crossing the line, preparing the bike the night before, descending this gnarly section successfully, etc.
Ryan Petrie (28) is a cyclist and emerging road and gravel racer from a small town called Wollongong on the south coast of Australia. He chatted to us about what goals he's set for the year.
This year of cycling for me has been a little bit of a mixed bag, from bikepacking through the Pyrenees to hillclimb events in Taiwan, alongside some personal cycling goals too. To me, the only way to describe the type of riding I like to do would be the word "challenging". (I do however think that ultra distance events are what I favour most as of late.) I am a very motivated person when there is a goal at hand, otherwise I often feel quite lost. Setting these goals is important for me, it gives me something to fixate all my attention on with my training and go all in.
Racing Pursuits
2024 is shaping up to be a year Ive looked forward to like no other. My plan so far is to race as much of both the UCI Gravel and Gravel Earth Series as possible leading into the main event for the first half of the gravel season, that being Traka 360. Traka has been a huge goal for me for some time now, and I am "itching" to see how I will fare against some of the world's best on the day.
Solo Challenges
Back to Australia for some winter training and a solo mission that has been on my mind for months now. Me, my gravel bike and 3 of Australia's oldest pubs as my destination. More on that soon. Cycling for me has always been about solitude, so these solo endeavours are very important "for the mind"? Beyond that, the second half of my season will completely depend on what comes from the start of the year. There really is no telling what could happen or how the body is going to respond. Though there will be no shortage of racing and planning of ridiculous rides and adventures, I think another crack at Taiwan KOM would only be fair!
]]>Photo credit: Henry Kingsford & Sirus F
How's that transition been for you? It's been wonderful. Difficult at first, but wonderful. I think a lot of athletes struggle with identity - especially when injured, taking time off, or in my case pivoting to a different sport. Social media applies a certain pressure here too, but I've moved past that and I genuinely couldn't feel more at home in this community!
What feeling do you get (or feeling are you chasing) with your riding? I love the long days, tracing those familiar paths that lead out to somewhere new. Time with friends and the shared love for just being outside and pushing. No better feeling than arriving at a café after a big effort - sweat covered and caffeine deprived.
How does that compare to skateboarding? In essence its actually very similar! Wed often be out in the streets all day, filming, working hard and messing around, its known as being a street rat. I like to think of gravel riders as the same, were just nature rats!
Whats been your most memorable ride so far? Riding the Great British Escapade (485k race). Riding through two nights, feeling like pure death and hallucinating after 30+ hours on the bike. The high of waking from a quick nap and feeling like a new woman. It was the height of summer and the sun rising at 4am was epic and filled me with confidence.
Whats the best thing you've discovered on a ride? Gwyn's bakery in Horsham. You will not find a better croissant trustttt me.
And who is the most interesting person you've met through cycling? Ahhhh too many to mention! If you ride a gravel bike you're likely cool AF. It just attracts the right people, doesn't it?
How did you find your way into gravel racing? I really got hooked on riding late last year. I knew I'd start racing because I was enjoying the bike so much and Ive been an athlete my whole life. So whilst I started cycling for the outdoor vibes, its no surprise I've fallen for the physical pursuit too.
What's been your most favourite cycling race? The Gralloch (UCI gravel race in Scotland). It was my first race ever and the vibes were unmatched. I met my dad straight from work in London, who drove us over 400 miles to get there on the Friday evening. We had a few hours sleep after getting in super late and then we were up again early doors for the event. It was such a hard race, unrelenting ups and downs, so fast. My HR was max for like the whole first hour, I remember thinking how on earth am I supposed to take on fuel when I cant breathe I was totally inexperienced and just left it all out there. I finished with the biggest smile on my face. And to see my dad cheering for me too. I cant wait to go again next year.
You recently competed in the King Cup Gravel Race, how did you find it? Ahhhh it was epic! I didn't have the start I wanted, but I had great fun and I'll definitely be going again next year.
How did you prepare for the event? Prep was minimal if Im being honest... I went into this very open minded, knowing it was pretty different from the other events I've done.
How were you feeling during the race? At first awful, after having such a rubbish start - I missed clipping in and lost those vital first few seconds on the all out sprint. As you're all lined up in one row its super important to start well and get in a good group. I picked up after the first lap and really enjoyed it. I knew if I quit or let it get to me it would haunt me and feed a negative mindset. So I'm super happy I stuck to my guns, had fun and picked some people off along the way.
What did you think of the course? I enjoyed the flat/fast element, but really I'd have liked to see more techy sections.
How are you feeling with your result? Happy considering the circumstances. I started at the back and finished in the middle, so thats good to me. Next year I'd like to be up there in the front though.
Has it inspired any more races for next year? I've got a big season of racing planned next year. I'll return for round 2 of Kings cup for sure but I've got so many others to look forward to too! Lots of the UCI qualifiers, Traka 360k, one ultra abroad, so Basjuan or Badlands and loads of local gravel races too. Ive started working with an amazing coach to help with all this - Paul Delani at Trainsharp. Obviously I had no idea what I was doing when it came to cycle-specific training, so he's upped the game for me massively! It's got me even more stoked for these events.
You've been riding the Gran Tourer IIs for the last year, how have you found them? They're rad. Comfy, reliable and most importantly they look steez. I've recently got a pair the Gran Tourer XC too and the addition of the second dial is great, I love having that fit adjustment! Excited to take them all over the world on epic adventures next year.
And finally, can you tell us a bit about your ultimate aspirations for cycling? To travel and race as much as possible, to keep meeting beautiful people and making wonderful memories. This is just the beginning for me and I'm really excited to see where things go.
Words: Holly Bendall
Images: HarveyWaller
Skate Images: Henry Kingsford, Sirus F
]]>7 months into his journey riding 34,000+ kilometres around the world, we catch up with Boru McCullagh on the top 10 days of his Mind Mapping adventure so far. From views of the Himalayas to remote gravel roads in Cambodia, follow Boru on once-in-a-lifetime climbs and exotic hidden gems in these highlights from his travel diaries (with accompanying routes on Strava).
]]>7 months into his journey riding 34,000+ kilometres around the world, we catch up with Boru McCullagh on the top 10 days of his Mind Mapping adventure so far. From views of the Himalayas to remote gravel roads in Cambodia, follow Boru on once-in-a-lifetime climbs and exotic hidden gems in these highlights from his travel diaries (with accompanying routes on Strava).
1: Temi Tea Estate: Sikkim, India. Day 68
Check the strava recording here
Perhaps the most beautiful climb in the world. I nearly didn’t take this road as the day before I’d a bad stomach so spent it in bed in Gangtok, the capital of the State of Sikkim that I was in at the time. The day began with a fast descent dropping over a kilometre in elevation, before starting the climb up to 2300m through a tea estate in the Himalayan foothills.
I’d spent enough days dancing around these mountains and sleeping at altitude that I felt amazing that day. As I climbed, the view of Kanchenjunga (the world’s second highest peak at 8586m) emerged from behind the smaller mountains obscuring its view at the lower elevations. The temperature progressively dropped, the pine trees became more frequent, the looks of bewilderment increased.
I was listening to a podcast at the time about Tenzing Norgay, one of the duo who first summited Everest, and within that learnt about the spiritual weight the Himalayas carry in Buddhism and Hindusim. I could feel that as I climbed this mountain, it was a humbling experience to stand so small in the face of this mountain range.
2: Mali Alan Pass: Croatia. Day 19
Check the strava recording here
Similar to the Temi Tea Estate climb, I didn’t expect to have a good day. I’d eaten some bad chicken the day before and it was a challenge to get out the door. I felt so awful when I was on the beginning of a gravel climb, one that I thought was Mali Alan Pass, that I decided to turn back and take the road instead. I was pretty crushed I didn’t have the legs; Mali Alan was up there on a list of ‘Top 10 Gravel Climbs in Europe’ I’d googled before starting this whole ride. But I had to get on with the day, and before long was turning off the music to find my rhythm (I can never listen to music whilst climbing) on an extended gravel section. This time round, there was no road alternative, and it didn’t stop going up. It wasn’t a small gravel section, but whole climb. I was loving it.
Once I crested the top I recognised the moon-like rock structures and otherworldly atmosphere that I’d seen in photos. This was Mali Alan, not the one I skipped earlier! I was so relieved, all day I was trying to console myself for having skipped it, and here I was at the top.
Sometimes the best experiences come when we least expect them, a lesson I would learn to put into practise as I travelled further and say yes to any opportunity for the possibility of what might lay on the other side of the unknown.
3: Cal Dagi: Fethiye, Turkey. Day 40
Check the strava recording here
Cal Dagi in my mind holds an almost mythical status. Along the south-eastern coast of Turkey, Finley Newmark and I planned to ride up Babadag, a 2000m mountain on the Mediterranean coast. Before we started the climb, we met a man called Ian who strongly advised against Babadag and told us about Cal Dagi, an equally impressive climb, but completely unknown to the tourism machine that can too easily commercialise areas of natural beauty.
We did the climb the day after we met Ian. The road up was so hidden (it’s only used to have a fire spotter atop the mountain in the summer months) that we initially couldn’t find it. Ian, who as well as Cal Dagi holds a mythical like status in my mind for his Tom Bombadil-esque nature, seeming to have knowledge on history, the world and the land he lives to such a degree it seems too much to have learned in one lifetime, drove us to the base of the climb in the morning.
The climb itself was as challenging as it was made out to be. One of those ones you have to break it down into different pitches and target them one by one. We hid our luggage in a bush and rode, carried and finally left our bikes to climb the final section to the top.
Just in time, the call to prayer sung out from the Mosques in the valleys beneath us as we took a seat at the summit. Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments I have ever experienced.
4: Ha Giang Loop: Ha Giang Province, Vietnam. Day 90
Check the strava recording here
The Ha Giang Loop is a famous 350km loop around the mountains of north Vietnam.
I had to ride the wrong way around the world to get to this part of Vietnam, but I was rewarded tenfold for the effort in doing that. The climbs, sheer and humid, have been some of the toughest so far. There isn’t the space for the long, sweeping switchbacks typical of Europe; Most of the roads here are steep, without breeze but with a certain mysticism around them, especially with the morning rain and mist which hugs the carpet of jungle that clings to the mountain beneath it.
This particular day had a climb with gradients that hurt my legs to think about. Tough, beautiful and I’d go back in a heartbeat.
5: Battambang to Siem Reap: Cambodia. Day 136
Check the strava recording here
All of the days so far have been for their climbs but Battambang to Siem Reap couldn’t be further from those days. On paper it was a 175km day with 50m of climbing to circumnavigate Tonle Sap, the largest freshwater lake in South-East Asia, which conveniently sits just off the centre of Cambodia.
I wasn’t looking forward to it one bit, but in addition to everything I learned from the Cambodian people in my time there on how to live my life a better person, I also learnt how to truck surf. And truck surf well.
In the end that 175km took me 4 hours and 30 minutes, averaging 39kph thanks to the help of a few truck drivers. The encouragement from those who I jumped behind and the cars who were overtaking us turned what could have been a soul destroying day into an adrenaline fuelled, fast paced and intense dash across the country. Sometimes, as with a few days prior to this, I want to go onto the gravel mountain roads and take it slow, but days like today the little kid who grew up racing at Herne Hill Velodrome comes out, and I was in the zone.
6: Durmitor National Park: Montengro. Day 25
Check the strava recording here
Durmitor was another of those climbs that was supposedly among the best in the world. I can attest to that.
The day before I’d left Bosnia with the help of a local farmer who roped up my bike to get it across a huge, deep crater where a road used to be. The next day I was on perfectly tarmacked roads dipping around, under and through the sheer cliffs that borer Piva Canyon in Montenegro. One turn later and I was zig-zagging my way up the mountain side on my way to Durmitor, a stunningly picturesque National Park in north Montenegro.
The mountains here look like they’d been attacked by gods, with unnatural striations scratching the face and boulders that looked like they’d been flung around in some Olympian myth.
At the summit, a touring group had a huge lunch laid out and invited me over to join them. It was a fortunate coincidence, before long I found myself in some vast grass plains way off track, following the directions from the only farmer I saw for miles.
7: Slovenia to Croatia. Day 17
Check the strava recording here
This day is up there for the number of borders I crossed that day. I travelled from Slovenia to Gorizia in Italy then back to Slovenia and back into Italy, this time in Trieste, then Slovenia again before entering Croatia. I hadn’t planned to go to Italy but the thought of a €1 coffee was too tempting to pass up. I had three.
This day has also stuck with me for the change of scenery and marked the end of the first real test of the ride, getting through the Alps. I began with the damp Alpine air hanging over the valleys I was descending through and as I dropped down towards the coast this evolved to become the harsh, arid and pine scented heat that is undeniably Mediterranean.
I felt I was making some headway into this mammoth journey with a mountain range now between myself and London. This was still the early days where I was struggling to process the size of the journey I was undertaking and feeling further from home made me simultaneously inspired and fearful.
8: Cardamom Mountains: Cambodia. Day 131
Check the strava recording here
Part of the reason I loved the riding in Cambodia is because you’re never far from rough gravel tracks or a newly built, perfectly tarmacked main road. However, if you want a smooth drive travelling north to south in the west of the country, you have to be willing to take huge detours back to Phnom Penh.
This road through the Cardamom Mountains is a wide gravel road (for the most part) which is currently being built into a main road to connect the cities in the west. With no signal or route on my Wahoo, I took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up on a small gravel track through the mountains. The earth, the jungle… they were so vibrant. I knew I’d found a special pocket of the country that other Barang (in Khmer it means ‘French’ but they use it to describe any foreigner) would never find themselves on.
Fortunately just before dark I found a house and signed to the owner asking if I could set my tent up. He obliged and also insisted on cooking me a hearty dinner of rice, dried fish and pork accompanied by homemade rice wine and Sting energy drink. Chhngan khlang na.
9: Bao Loc to Ho Chi Minh City: Vietnam. Day 116
Check the strava recording here
Not the most inspiring day, but riding into Ho Chi Minh City was a rollercoaster and has traffic so unique to anywhere I’d been so far. HCMC is a city of about 9 million, but within it are over 7 million motorbikes. That’s nearly three times the amount of cars that we have in London, and then add the 0.8 million cars in HCMC on top of that and you might have an idea of how wild the roads are here. Except for major junctions, traffic lights aren’t really a thing in Vietnam and if there are, they’re often just a suggestion.
I’m convinced that the Vietnamese drivers have the best spatial awareness anywhere in the world; the way the traffic flows seamlessly around and through itself is mesmerising. From the outside it looks like chaos, but once you’re in it you can see the order and they behave in pre-emptive and thoughtful ways. You can’t switch off even for a second here, there’s so much information to take in that you’re constantly on high alert. It was a big adrenaline hit.
10: The First Day: London to Dover. Day 1
Check the strava recording here
No list of my top 10 rides of Mind Mapping would be complete without Day 1. It meant so much to me to see so many people wishing me a good send off and the route to Dover was a special one, with what I think I can say was over 100 riders rolling out together from Herne Hill Velodrome.
It was the start of something big and I was nervous, excited, fearful, encouraged. That first day was also the hardest day of riding of this whole tour. I struggled so much on the flats, and on the short climb between Folkstone and Dover with the weight of the bike that I wasn’t yet used to, kept on asking myself how on earth I’d got myself into this. How would I hope to get through the Alps on this bike? Let alone the whole world.
I couldn’t comprehend the journey that this ride signified and now 166 days later as I write this in Phuket, Thailand, I’m equally as nervous and excited for the roads I’m yet to travel. At least by this point and unlike the first day, the bike now feels like home.
Follow his adventures: Boru's Instagram
Donate to Mind: Boru's JustGiving Page
Photography: Finley Newmark and Boru McCullagh
Marcus is an adventure cyclist based in Glasgow, who has successfully completed Badlands, Dales Divide, the Hungarian Divide, Italy Divide and the Atlas Mountain Race all while pursuing a PhD. Meanwhile, Allan is a bike packer, storyteller and former bike messenger running his own cycling cap business called Gay’s Okay, where he makes LGBTQ-friendly cycling caps to celebrate and encourage more diversity and visibility in the world of cycling.
In this blog conversation, Marcus and Allan catch up on what they have been up to and share their stories of ultra-cycling and long-distance adventure.
First thing's first, catch us up on what you're both doing right now!
Allan Shaw: I’m working full-time at an art gallery over here in Mexico City. I’m planning to head back over to Copenhagen to do some courier work early this year.
Marcus Nicolson: Nice! I’m just trying to finish off my PhD studies here in Glasgow over this winter. It’s really hard to study over the summer months, when I just want to be out riding, so I’m hoping to use the darkness as inspiration to get this done!
How did you get into ultra-cycling?
MN: I used to skateboard a lot and then I gradually got into fixed gear riding when I lived in Finland. From there, I started going on longer tours and I went along to a talk about an ultra-race in Japan and that sounded amazing. A few years later I entered my first race, at Badlands in Spain.
AS: I’ve always been doing a bunch of quite ambitious cycle tours. I would do at least two big tours a year, and always tried to maximize what I could achieve in the limited time I had. Then, I heard about the Silk Road Mountain Race and listened to the podcast. I was super excited to try it. In a way, going to an organised event seemed easier - as someone else had planned the route! It's super appealing as a competitive sport, because it's an opportunity to see super cool places and have interactions you wouldn’t experience outside of the racing context.
Can you tell us more about your race strategy and trackers?
MN: Ultras are all about elapsed time. Once, during the Italy Divide I kept going for something like 40 hours without sleep and managed to catch up with the riders in front. By that point I was going so slow and was mentally so out of it that there was no way I could keep going. It’s definitely a good idea to prioritise a little sleep and rest in your racing plans.
AS: Sometimes it feels like you've been riding alone all day but then you check the tracker and notice that there's actually like three people just an hour ahead of you. And there's someone coming up right behind you too. It's a good reason to pick up the pace! I try not to look at the tracking map for the first few days, but maybe during the third day of a race…it can be that extra motivation when you're feeling low.
I don't really care about competitiveness during the race, because everyone who's out there is doing an amazing job. You know what they're going through. Sometimes dotwatchers tell me I’m about to catch up to another rider in front but usually I don’t really care because it’s someone I’ve hung out with before and I have a lot of respect for.
How do you train for these events?
AS: Ride consistently, do a lot of climbing! Try and ride some technical trail stuff. I do shorter distances a few times a week, and then try to do at least one long ride a week. I think it's good to work on your core muscles, because you need those on these long races. You do a lot of walking and carrying your bike! If I have time I like to go on a big tour about a month before the race. I’m contemplating trying some of the Baha Divide before I head to Atlas Mountain Race later this year.
MN: It’s easy to start comparing yourself to other people, like I see people putting in so many base miles on Strava that I could never do. It’s important to train in the way that's right for you and everyone has different limitations in terms of time and other commitments. I try to ride outdoors as much as possible and supplement that with harder gym sessions through the winter.
Any other tips for surviving an ultra?
AS: I'm a big believer in the goldfish mentality. You’ve got to think like a goldfish! A goldfish forgets everything just after it happens to it, and just keeps spinning around the bowl. Everything is so temporary, and you just have to continue and keep on pedalling until the bad moments are gone.
MN: Wow, that’s great advice. Riding consistently and within your limits is my suggestion. I’ve had a few mechanical failures from sending it too hard down some rocky descents when it’s definitely better to hold back a bit and keep up a better average speed overall. It’s hard to reduce your overall stopped time at rest spots but that comes with experience.
Can you share your racing plans for the upcoming season?
MN: I’m planning to ride the Seven Serpents gravel race in Slovenia in May, it follows an off-road route around the Croatian coast and islands before finishing in Trieste, Italy. In July I hope to ride a new ultra called the Bright Midnight in Norway. Those are both organised by my friend Bruno so it’s also a good opportunity to catch up with friends.
AS: So far I’m focusing on riding the Atlas Mountain Race in Morocco at the start of February. It’s going to be a night-time start which will make things interesting on the first day of the race! I don’t have any other big race plans but really want to explore around Mexico a bit more while I’m here.
Photography: Mike DeBernardo
]]>I didn’t know what to expect from Turkey. All I really knew beforehand was that it was a popular holiday destination for Brits, and home to a number of unique civilisations of the ancient world including Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Seljuks, Ottomans and so many more, some of which I had studied in Classics back at school. Fascinatingly, it is also the location of Göbekli Tepe, a historical site dating back to 10,000BCE whose discovery has significantly changed our understanding of the development of human society.
With such an extensive history, the country is rich with culture, home to amazing roads and trails to lose yourself in, and full of warm and welcoming people. All of these things make it the perfect country to see by bike. Here are some tips I’d recommend for anyone thinking of heading there.
1. Head Inland
The most popular route for cycling in Turkey is to follow the southern coastline, which is popular for a reason, (it’s beautiful). However some of our favourite encounters and towns we came across were just inland. Pomegranate, pear and lime orchards cover a lot of the countryside here, and there are incredible villages that give you a sense of what the country is like away from the tourist hotspots. As Ian, our host for a night, put it: most of the busier towns, archaeological sites, and mountains have an equally impressive counterpart located just a few kilometres away, rugged and untouched by the tourism on the coast. Our favourite was Cal Dagi: a 2000m+ peak found near the town of Cogmen. It maintains a mythical status in my memories from the country.
2. Learn About the Land
As I mentioned before, Turkey is home to countless civilisations now resigned to history and learning about the places you pass through can inspire, knowing the shoes that have walked the road you’re cycling on. Spartacus, the renowned gladiator who famously rebelled against Rome, was from Thrace (the name in antiquity for European part of Turkey), and Ephesus in the south east housed the Temple of Artemis, one of the ancient wonders of the world. It would be hard to cycle through Turkey and not come across areas with such fascinating stories ready to be heard, but do some research beforehand and seek out some gems.
3. Try Wild Camping
I couldn’t find a definitive answer to whether wild camping is ‘allowed’ or not in Turkey, like it is in some places, but the fact remains that people don’t really mind what you’re doing as long as you’re discreet. You’ll get visited by some cats and you might have a dog fight outside your tent in the middle of the night (I’m sure I wasn’t dreaming), but you won’t be bothered by people. In some areas there are pigs around, so it's wise to make sure any food you have is not easily accessible by them.
Speaking of animals, if you see sheep: stay clear. The sheepdogs are big and ready to defend their flock at any cost. One valuable piece of advice suggested to me (that I didn’t have) was an easy-access whistle on a necklace to scare away dogs that might be chasing you. Others suggested water, but I challenge you to reach for a bidon as you’re sprinting away from two massive dogs barking and snarling at you...
4. Try the Tea and Coffee
When it comes to tea and coffee, the Turks have it perfected. Tea is part of the social fabric of Turkey, you’ll be offered it all over and it would be rude to turn it down. It’s a way for someone to invite you to feel welcome, and you get the sense that the ability to offer it fills the host with pride. In Islam, drinking alcohol is forbidden, so when Adem and Pinar took me in for the night in Corlu, we stayed up until the early hours drinking tea and eating fruit and nuts in its place. The other drink is coffee - Turkish coffee comes in a small cup similar to an espresso, but is prepared in a completely different way. The coffee is ground extremely fine and then boiled with water and sugar to then be poured in a cup with that ground. It’s meant to be sipped slowly to avoid drinking the sediment in the bottom of the cup, which is easy to do - you’ll want to savour this deep, oakey, chocolatey drink. It’s full of depth and is like no coffee I’ve had before.
5. Take a Bus to Discover More
The country is vast, with a wealth of varied environments and busy roads linking them. Don’t be afraid to take a bus to see more of it if you’re on a time constraint. Buses are the best way to get around as the train lines don’t service a lot of cities, plus you can get them overnight so they don’t take a day’s riding away from you. There is no extra charge for taking your bike on a bus (although the handler might ask for something) but it will be treated as luggage, meaning it’ll be put underneath with all the bags. As long as you put it in there with enough protection of the more fragile parts, it should be fine. Just keep in mind the bus will be in a rush to leave so it’ll be a frantic few minutes!
About the Author:
Boru Pratt McCullagh is a 23-year-old cyclist and former velodrome coach, who in August this year, embarked upon on a once-in-a-lifetime, 34,000- kilometre journey to cycle around the world raising funds for mental health charity, Mind.
Follow his adventures: Boru's Instagram
Donate to Mind: Boru's JustGiving Page
Photography: Finley Newmark and Boru McCullagh
What is the Tour Divide and what makes it special?
The Tour Divide is one of the world’s longest off-road ultra-distance bike races. Following the well-established Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, the race follows the Continental divide of the US and Canada from Banff, Alberta to Antelope Wells, New Mexico. Stretching 4300km and covering over 45,000m of climbing, the route is beautiful, diverse and at times exceptionally remote and isolated. It is a race that demands a high-level of skill, endurance and perseverance, and in many years’ races more than 50% of the start line fail to make it to the finish line.
How did you decide to compete in this year's Tour Divide and how did you prepare?
For me it was a long and tough journey to the start line of Tour Divide. After competing in last year’s Silk Road Mountain Race I had dreamed of Tour Divide being my next big race goal. Then, at the end of 2021, I was hit by a truck while out riding in the remote backroads of Mexico, where I live. I broke my pelvis in two places, as well as my femur and some other injuries. It was my lowest and most perilous circumstance physically in my life, requiring 4 surgeries and a complex recovery period to get me back to any level of normality. Tour Divide, for me, became my recovery goal. Something concrete to aim towards, to focus my energy on and keep me motivated. I started walking unaided again at the end of January, and started riding my bike again only at the end of February, a little over 3 months from the start of the race. It was only in early May that I made the decision I was definitely going to give it a go. Many racers I met before the race had asked me how my training had gone, and given the enormity of the race ahead, it felt kind of mad to tell people that I’d actually been in a wheelchair just 5 months earlier.
But what I lacked in physical prowess I knew I could make up for in my level of experience. I’ve crossed continents and raced ultra-distance many times in the past. I knew I could think on my feet, spend endless hours in the saddle and put up with plenty of discomfort after the year I’d had.
What were your top 3 best moments on the trail?
For both the good and the bad times, I think it’s important to think of them as moments and not days. I don’t think of the experience in terms of good days and bad days, the days are so long that there is a generous sprinkling of good and bad moments every single day out there on the trail. The key is to remember how temporary everything is, to forget about the bad times as soon as they are over, and to hold up good times as shining examples of exactly why you are doing it.
The famous Brush Mountain Lodge is a mecca for all cyclists either racing or touring the continental divide route. The compassionate, kind and generous host Kirsten is big on hugs and has ample snacks, food, beer and sleep space for any and all cyclists who pass through her remote and mountainous part of Colorado. The space is charged with the energy of so many racers who’ve come through over the years. It’s a great place of respite, a warm shower and an even warmer conversation, and Kirsten accepts only donations of what you can afford. The place has a family feel, which is so comforting so far into the race. The day I arrived at the lodge I had ridden 240km and could not have been happier that I was able to time my ride so I could justify a night’s sleep at the famous institution, and it ended up being one of my favorite nights of the whole trip.
• Great Basin
The Great Basin of Wyoming was one of the sections of the route I was least looking forward to, and then ironically ended up being one of my very favorite sections. It is a section of over 200km without any access to water or other services, in the high altitude desert plains of central Wyoming. It is infamous for, at times impossible, headwinds, rain and isolation. It’s the section people tell you you should just put your head down and get through.
I arrived at the edge of the Basin after having to take an early finish the previous day to wait for the bike shop to open the following day. I had some very curious issues with a loose front hub and drivetrain issues, and had gone to sleep worried I was going to lose a lot of time and spend a lot of money fixing things. In the end the nice people at Geared Up in Pinedale told me what I was kind of hoping, that it would be a time-consuming and expensive fix, but that it was pretty likely things would hold together and not get any worse if I just kept going. I am not adverse to taking risks, and went for that option, got on the road before 11am and was in the best mood to be pushing out of town. I managed to push out over 200km into the Basin that day, and I enjoyed the most spectacular sunset and sunrise of the whole trip. The empty, flat and expansive desert landscape felt powerful and personal. I was blessed with favorable conditions and it felt like a good omen for the rest of the race, like the worst was finally behind me.
• Finish Line
It is undeniable that getting to the end of such a long race is a huge moment, and with the difficult terrain and unpredictable conditions it’s one that can feel like a long way off even right up until the last day. While you watch racer after racer drop out, and the road ahead of you seems unending, for the longest time it’s better to completely forget about the finish line and about how it might feel to get there. I decided to give myself a shorter 130km day on my final day, stopping the night before in the desert to enjoy one last night camping (there was a crazy storm, tarantulas and mosquito bites, but that’s another story) so I arrived at the finish around midday. After having pushed myself so hard to recover from my accident and then push myself the whole race so I could reach my grand goal, it was a lot of emotion at once when I suddenly saw the border pop up on the horizon. The famous sign post everyone takes their picture at. The scale of the achievement, the enormity of it, hit me all at once, and I was overcome with one of the deepest senses of pride I have ever felt. I had a good cry, I will never forget the feeling.
What were your top 3 toughest moments on the trail?
This race is challenging on an almost permanent basis. The whole idea is you push yourself every single day, further than you think might be possible. With that in mind there are tough moments every day, and those tough moments teach you a valuable lesson on how you can endure hardship. In that sense I'm grateful for many of those tough moments, but it can also make it tricky to pick just three!
• Richmond pass snow
Probably the most infamous part of the race, the part of the race that made the local news under a headline like “Crazy cyclists rescued from Snow storm”.
I was outside a Gas Station in Columbia Falls when I bumped into Nick and David. To my surprise, they told me there was a massive storm coming our way, and that it would rain for more than 24 hours and fall as snow on the next mountain pass. Without any cell phone service I was committed to being prepared but blissfully unaware of whatever weather conditions lay ahead. Sure enough the rain started that afternoon. I found another racer Sandro who’d pitched his tent by about 9pm. Though it was a little earlier than I wanted, camping in groups ended up at least feeling a little safer in bear country. Another racer, Markus, ended up joining us and after setting up tents in the pouring rain, we all hoped it might finish around mid-morning, but oh how wrong we were. The following day we rode along together in the same pouring rain, after around 50-60km we started the big climb towards the pass with no idea what to expect. All of us already soaked through, at some point we bumped into a forest ranger who showed us an impressive map layout on her iPad and told us to be careful, it had snowed all night up there.
Another 10km up the trail we hit the snow line, fresh powder, slick and cold. It was still rideable for the first few kilometers and I found myself remembering the days I worked as a bike messenger through the winter in Toronto. I could do this, it wasn’t so bad. Then, all of a sudden, our route took a sharp left turn onto a hiking trail and everything changed immediately. The depth of the snow was well above the knee and there were no signs any other racer had attempted it in the last few hours. Lucky to have each other, we started walking. It was exhausting traipsing through the fresh snow with fully loaded bikes. We were sweating and soaking, the perfect storm for getting hypothermia in conditions like this. At some point I paused, checked the route and realised there was probably another 5-6km of this, which would take hours. Hours during which nothing could go wrong, no tiny accidents, rolling ankles, falling. Anything goes wrong and it would very quickly turn into a very serious situation. We kept our heads down and kept moving, telling funny stories and keeping each other's spirits up, but make no mistake, we were all pretty scared to put ourselves in such a situation. The feeling of relief when we noticed the level of snow significantly reducing was so palpable, I almost screamed in delight. After hours of uncertainty we were clear. Then there was the descent, which after so much exertion was freezing cold to whole new levels. When we made it to the next town, around 7pm, we immediately decided that was enough for the day and got a steak dinner and found a place to sleep indoors with much needed laundry and showers.
It had all been going so well that day. I had comfortably achieved all my small goals, crossed through the mighty Gran Tetons national park and was way on target to make it over one last pass and camp before the mammoth Union Pass. Then it all changed on that last pass. It started raining, which wasn’t a big deal, until the conditions of the road turned to loose, thick mud that clogged up my wheels to the point they refused to turn. I aggressively shoved my bike through the grass for a long time till it was rideable again, the trail then rejoined the road for most of the rest of the climb. There was a small gas station and I used its hose to rid my bike of an impressive amount of mud, coating everything. I continued on towards the top of the pass, now getting dark and really rather cold. The rain switched to snow as we gained altitude, got thicker and made it hard to see ahead through my headlamp. Near the top of the pass the route left the road and continued on dirt for the last few kilometers, with sections of snow to walk over but mainly that same thick mud from earlier. It was very VERY slow-going. I loaded my bike onto my shoulder and traipsed through the mud step by step. The uneven and slippery surface made me slip and fall a number of times. At some point I also sunk into deep mud and when I ripped out my foot my shoe came off, and I then had to dig in the mud to retrieve my shoe. It was truly as laughable as it was brutally hard. It was pitch black, snowing and I was filthy. I knew it could only be another 500m to the summit, but the previous 2km had taken me more than an hour. I couldn't decide whether it was really still worth it to keep moving or if it was just silly at this point. I checked my watch and saw it was almost midnight, and decided to stop right where I was, throw up my tent and wait for the first light and hope for better conditions. I knew it would be cold but I was confident I had good enough kit to withstand it.
Overnight it got down to -8c, my tent and bike bags were covered in frost. It also turned out with the magic of daylight I could see the top of the pass was barely 200m from where I pitched my tent. However, the worst decision I’d made was to ditch my bike without clearing any of the mud from the tyres or frame. By the morning all the mud had frozen solid to the bike and it was impossible to move the wheels or turn the chainring. I ended up spending over an hour using a tent peg as an ice-pick as I carefully and meticulously chipped away as much of the mud as possible to get the wheels moving. I felt resourceful, but it also felt just so silly. Once I was able to get the bike moving and I got over to the other side of the peak, within five minutes the sun was shining, the trail was gorgeous and the rest of the mud easily dropped off the bike. It was a moment I really did not enjoy, but I did appreciate my own reaction to the situation, to just get on with it, accept it sucked and still laugh at how ludicrous a situation it was.
• Fucking my hub NM
What many people know about me is that, despite spending the majority of the last ten years on a bicycle, mechanics is a topic that simply does not interest me. I understand how things work and how to keep myself moving, but above that it’s a language I have no real interest in learning. This is always my main concern on long races, what if my bike breaks and I don’t know how to fix it? It’s always in the back of your mind. And in this race, I ended up riding with a loose front hub for more than half the race. Partly because it really didn’t seem to get very much worse over time despite not being at all careful with it, and partly because I was afraid to spend so much money on replacing a whole front wheel. I was okay to roll along a little broken, as long as I was rolling. One evening in New Mexico, just 600km from the finish and at the end of a 295km day, I rolled through a thick dirt puddle and 500m further down the road I felt resistance in the front wheel. When I hopped off to have a look I could see my front hub was completely seizing up, taking the cables of my dynamo with it. Something had lodged in the hub and stopped it from turning. I was 12km from a cheap motel in a tiny town by the highway. No bike shop, it was late and my brain was foggy from such a long day in the heat. I made the, very dumb, decision to loosen the hub and gently slow roll into town with the axle rubbing on the inside of the fork. At the same time I messaged my two best mechanic friends to ask for advice, did some frantic googling of the closest bike shops and realised my only option might be to hitchhike to the state capital Albuquerque, a potentially massive delay just a few days from the finish, a huge disappointment. I limped into town with my broken bike feeling a bit defeated, wishing I could come up with a smart solution but knowing that my brain was too fatigued to figure anything out. I got the keys to my room, took a shower, sent a few more stressed text messages and went to sleep, deciding to get up early the next day, get to the Gas station and attempt hitchhiking.
The next morning I decided to tighten down my axle as much as I could and put a bunch of pressure on the wheel to spin as I hopped on and made the three-block journey along to the Gas station. At first the wheel made some wild screeching noises, but the resistance reduced. By the time I got to the Gas station I had managed to dislodge whatever was blocking the hub and the wheel was seemingly rolling pretty freely again. Now I was faced with a rather huge dilemma, take a huge risk and keep rolling the last 600km on a hub that is clearly very broken, or lose potentially a whole day or two hitchhiking hundred of kilometers across the state to spend a chunk of money to get the bike to a respectable riding condition. With a lot of inner-conflict I decided to go for broke and take the risk. The whole race had been a risk and it was too close to take the safe option at that point.
Very fortunately the bike held together good enough to make it to the finish line with no further dramas, but it was in a very rough state!
What were your top 3 items you couldn’t have lived without?
• Headphones
Distraction is a true art form. Pulling your mind's attention away from its physical discomfort and niggling doubts is a constant challenge. For me listening to music and podcasts is an indispensable tool for distracting the mind and reinforcing a positive attitude. Also being able to call friends and family from the saddle during the periods where I had cell service was such a boost.
• Gas Stations
I will happily admit that I’m a huge fan of the great American Gas station. For convenience, for frequency, for consistency of candy, sodas and trashy food. For a race like this it is a haven of Calories, which you desperately need. I have a real sweet tooth and a guilty pleasure for fast food, and I entered every Gas station with such delight to buy all the candy, hamburgers, sodas and iced coffees I could possibly fit. I was making the joke that a good race sponsor would be Haribo, because you end up consuming so much candy. At some point Supermarkets became too confusing a level of choice, Gas stations had everything you needed in the perfect sized outlet.
• Gay’s Okay Cap
I’m very proud of the company I’ve built (gaysokay.eu) and the impact it has had on the world of cycling and its visible representation of LGTBQ people. As one of the very very few LGBTQ ultra-distance cyclists I always want to represent and fly my flag proud, to encourage more people to feel included, and wearing one of my caps is an integral part of that. Unfortunately, I ended up forgetting to bring a cap, damnit! However, in my desperation to represent LGBTQ cyclists across America I managed to find a blank cycling cap the day before the race and used a sharpie to write GAY’S OKAY across the brim, which I wore all the way across the country.
What pair of shoes did you use and how did they perform?
• Gran Tourer II
I knew this was QUOC's signature gravel shoe, versatile and comfortable, so it seemed like a no-brainer to pick this shoe for the trip. I wore these shoes for sometimes up to 19 hours a day without taking them off and they were consistently comfortable. They dried quickly after getting wet and dealt with all the pressures of the trail super well. I also did an exceptional amount of walking in these shoes and had no complaints in terms of foot or ankle discomfort (not that I’d recommend these as hiking shoes, but sometimes the trails demand it). The shoes saw snow, rain, mud, sand, rivers, rocks and more and are still in great condition after all that, ready for their next adventure.
]]>Recently Marcus set a Fastest Known Time (FKT) on the Badger Divide route between Glasgow and Inverness. The 340km off-road route includes a knee-shaking 5800m of elevation, taking in some of Scotland’s most spectacular scenery through the Highlands. We thought it would be interesting to learn about what it takes to complete a fast time on such a challenging route.
Here are Marcus’ 5 top tips for riding FKTs.
1. Know the route
Having a good knowledge of the route; the trail surfaces, hardest sections and biggest climbs is essential when planning to take on a challenge like this. I’ve ridden the Badger a few times over the years and had a good idea of which sections would be the slowest and toughest, where to reserve energy and where I could push a bit harder.
The Badger Divide is a mix of gravel, single track, and quiet road sections so selecting the perfect bike is always going to be a gamble. I opted for the Pelago Stavanger gravel bike as it is the one I am most comfortable on. I knew that on some of the more technical single-track sections I would be slower than on an MTB but decided that overall it would be the best tool for the job.
2. Be self-sufficient
This might surprise you but I took a lot of supplies for the trip! I had all my regular Straight Cut bikepacking bags, with the exception of the handlebar roll. As usual I took all my puncture repair supplies, including extra tubeless sealant and a tube for emergencies, but thankfully didn’t need to use those! It’s always important to be prepared for any mechanical issue you might face, as well as carrying plenty of water and snacks to keep yourself hydrated and energy levels up. I like to use a hydration pack and cargo bibs so that I have snacks easily reachable throughout the ride.
I also carried some non-riding clothes and flat-soled trainers strapped to my saddle-bag so that I’d have something more relaxed to change in to at the end of the ride. In this regard, I was more concerned with being fully self-sufficient than with any extra weight I might have been carrying. My bike is fitted with dynamo front and rear lights, which made the short sections of night riding considerably easier. I took an extra headlight to give me greater visibility and light up the trails through the night.
3. Prioritise your strengths
I am not the fastest rider out there and knew that I wouldn’t be able to push out a ridiculously fast average speed on the overall route. However, over the past few years I have been building on my endurance capabilities and consistency on the bike. I therefore decided to prioritise minimising my stopped time. I knew where the most easily accessible shops were on the route where I could stop quickly to refuel and continue eating on the bike. This meant I was able to ride fairly conservatively on the downhill sections, without having to risk a puncture or mechanical, while keeping to a reasonably fast schedule.
On the day of the ride my overall stopped time was around 33mins, with around 18hrs 5mins riding time which I think is a testament to this strategy. If you are a faster rider you may want to factor in longer breaks to account for using more energy.
4. Comfort on the bike
On a long off-road route it is likely you are going to give your body a proper battering throughout the day! Having your bike set-up dialled is essential for maintaining comfort. Thick bar tape, a comfortable saddle and a more relaxed riding position are things I always look for before setting off on a long ride.
If you are preparing for a bikepacking event or long FKT, I’d really recommend having a bike-fit done professionally. Having had a few fit-related injuries over the years I wish I had gone to a professional bikefitter much earlier!
There are sections on the Badger route which will be un-rideable no matter what bike you take so it’s important to have shoes that are comfortable for hiking and pushing your bike up rocky gravel paths! I found the QUOC GTs to be perfect for hopping on and off the bike during the ride, and keeping my feet mostly dry when riding through the big puddles and bogs!
5. Enjoy the ride
Yes, you are pushing yourself very hard with a specific goal in mind but don’t forget to enjoy the ride, take in your surroundings and greet the other cyclists and wildlife you meet along the way. There is nothing I love more than riding through the Highlands of Scotland on my gravel bike. It was tough to get up to the 3am alarm clock but to take in a sunrise at the foot of the Highlands and sunset over Loch Ness in the same day is something truly memorable.
You can follow Marcus’ adventures here: https://www.instagram.com/marcusnicolson/
]]>Confronting Expectations
Seeing my first Rwandan sunrise after setting off at 4.30am gave the ride we were all embarking on a grand and otherworldly atmosphere. A mist slowly being pushed by the breeze gave way for the sun to spill onto the valley and start sharing its light with us, giving the signal for the race to begin. The tranquil start somewhat eased me into the ride and just as the mist cleared and the valley opened up, the fears that stemmed from nervousness and uncertainty started to lift. Rwanda is by no means a flat country but the route to checkpoint 1 was kind, and in hindsight, fairly forgiving.
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from my first ultra race, and it would’ve been all too easy to become hypnotised by the metronomic cadence some of the other riders were tapping and end up pushing way too hard from the off. The discomfort that came from trying to visualise the thousand kilometres ahead of me as we rode a lap of the country was hard to shake; to say I was intimidated by what lay ahead and the pace with which some of the riders had set off with would be an understatement.
How do you relax when you’re nervous about something? Can you? Or, like me, does the adrenaline make your body throw the things it knows out the window? There are essential lessons you learn when you do longer and longer rides: eat before you’re hungry, don’t burn your matches too soon, break the ride down into sections. But this was different, right? This is a race, and that carries a weight to it which is loaded with expectations of your performance in relation to others, and whether you like it or not there will probably be some negative thoughts that start creeping in. It’s that fixation on the race that was throwing everything off.
Adjusting Your Race Rationale
To get through the days there needed to be some rationale of why I was there so I could see it for what it really was. I was planning on ‘type 2 fun’ - the one where you only appreciate an event afterwards, not during - but it was made very obvious extremely quickly that taking that approach meant I’d be robbing myself of being able to absorb the experience in the pursuit of riding a bike fast. After all, this was a holiday, as it was for nearly everyone who took part in the race. It wasn’t a head down approach that was needed, but a head up.
It was that engagement with the people and the country that got me round. It was very much a sensory overload: The excited cheers of children shouting ‘Mzungu mzungu!’ (white person) up the road to their neighbours and seeing kids emerge out of nowhere to relay the message, the often overwhelming smell of the incense-like smoke from the burning piles of shrubs and the bumps and ruts in the dirt roads reminding you of the heavy downpour that could turn your 30 degree sweat fest into a 20 degree mud slog in an instant.
Ride in the Moment
Where I’d grown up in the sport racing at Herne Hill Velodrome, or around the country on the road and cyclocross in the winter, every race was against something. That hyper focussed drive that top end racers have that make them so successful, I don’t think I have, and I went into this race thinking that this same competitive energy was going to be required to get that one up on someone. That’s where my apprehension stemmed from at the start and why I felt so at ease at the finish, because that wasn’t the case here. Instead, I got round by taking myself mentally out of the race and immersing myself in the pine forest at 3000m, into the perfect rows of tea radiating the warmth of the morning sun in Gisovu and into the orchestra of frogs in the climb up to Kinigi. I wasn’t against anything;I felt I was with everything.
It was so much easier to switch off from the distance I was traveling once I embraced that mindset - a lesson that’s stuck with me since getting back and has helped get me round the 60km rides that start feeling like 600km. It’s about appreciating what you’re doing, where you are and being able to see those in the context of each other. Whatever ride distance you next challenge yourself with, be that an ultra race or a 100km ride and wherever that takes you, remember to look up when your legs start to burn, not down.
Don’t miss taking in your surroundings because you think the pain cave is necessary: it’s not. You’ll probably end up falling into the justification that what you’re doing is ‘type 2’ fun that way. Instead, take it all in, be mindful and enjoy every minute of it - you’ll go further that way, especially if there’s a sunrise involved.
Dressed casually and warmly welcoming, as the tea is brewing Caren takes me on a tour of the workshop with its pleasantly chaotic mix of boxed raw materials, hand tools and industrial machinery. Originally fabricating frames as Hartley Cycles, Isen was founded when Caren partnered with Matt McDonough of Talbot Frameworks—the pair subsequently carving out a reputation for beautifully built bikes in steel and titanium. Having previously studied at the Royal College of Art, clues to Caren’s background in fine metalwork can be found in the jewellery-making tools she uses to craft custom head badges that many of Isen’s customers add as a build option.
‘I was always making things as a child and I remember my parents being quite creative. Dad was a watchmaker and Mum would make costumes for us out of crêpe paper and cereal boxes. And then later, when I spent time in the metalwork department on my art foundation course, I became fascinated by the magic of soldering. It wasn't that I was necessarily interested in making jewellery but that's what you made out of metal.’ As her career progressed, Caren’s plans for creating larger-scale artworks were hampered by cuts in funding prompted by a worldwide financial crisis—a day-to-day existence of writing proposals which in most instances proved unsuccessful.
‘I knew I wanted a change but I was avoiding making any decisions by hanging out with my friend Jenni Gwiazdowski at the London Bike Kitchen. But after attending an event with her where I met a frame builder, I had this sudden realisation that it was a little like jewellery - basically big soldering - and I just needed to start making things that were bike shaped.’
With 15 years of experience building custom bikes between them, Matt now concentrates on fabrication with Caren focusing on paint—a completely in-house process that starts with a tube set and customer build sheet.
'When Matt and I first started Isen, our plan was to have a range of frame sizes available to be built up. In reality, everyone wants something a tiny bit different so we have models which are your jumping in point and then we can work on custom geometry and anything extra that’s required.'
As we leave the workshop’s fabrication bay with its familiar array of jigs, welding equipment and lathes, sitting on a table next to Caren’s paint booth is a piece of equipment that hints at this agile approach to design—a 3D printer they use to rapid prototype component test pieces in response to customer feedback and their own desire to balance form and function.
'It’s all about working with, rather than against a material’s intrinsic properties. That’s why we use carbon tubing for our integrated seat post and stainless steel if you want a really light, stiff road bike.'
Softly spoken and self-deprecating, when asked if she finds a sense of peace in the workshop, Caren suggests that hand fabricating metal feels comfortable and calming but paint brings its own intensity.
'I remember someone saying to me when I first started, that the difference between a good and bad painter is a good one knows how to fix all the mistakes. And paint is definitely more pressurised with the number of variables at play. But when a frame is finished and fully assembled, that's definitely the best bit. It takes such a long time to make a bike from the tubes in a box to the welding and paint. So there's a little bit of you that goes 'Yesss!' when it's finally ready for the customer.'
Acknowledging with a smile her own innate perfectionism, it’s clear that Caren’s attention to detail has found the perfect outlet in her brilliantly bold paint designs. And just as each and every Isen frame is handmade to order, the hours of care she invests in perfecting each paint scheme is understandable for such a bespoke product—a considered purchase for any prospective customer that, whilst not inexpensive, is surprisingly affordable compared to the current pricing of bikes from the larger manufacturers.
'People are regularly spending £7000 or more on standard-sized bikes nowadays. Ten years ago that would have seemed a lot but it's far more normalised now. And you can get a really, really nice custom bike for that money that's made to your exact specifications and will perform as well as the best carbon frames. It might weigh a few hundred grams more but it will still be lightweight and a joy to ride.'
As the London location of the Isen Workshop was perhaps unsurprisingly chosen for its commutability by bicycle, escaping the pressures of work sees Caren loading up her GOAT - think rugged, cross–country mountain bike - before heading off for a weekend camping trip.
'Manufacturing - and especially making things by hand - is a hard industry to be viable. So when I'm here at the workshop, it can get a little stressful but I do get to ride lovely bikes and that's really very nice.'
Caren Hartley - Isen Workshop
Words & photography by Chris Hargreaves
When did you start cycling, and how would you describe your history with cycling?
I was first drawn to cycling as a young child, looking up to my brother who owned a bike, and running after him through the streets as we grew up in Vietnam. At 5-years old, my family and I made an international move to the UK, escaping the political instability that marred the region at the time and spending 3 interim years in a refugee camp in Malaysia. In that time, I never forgot his bike and later, growing up in London, I saved up to buy my own. A red, second-hand road bike, which I used to cycle to and from school, and to the track and field.
Quoc (left) growing up as a child in Vietnam.
How did you get into shoe design?
I got into fashion design in textiles class in secondary school. Partly inspired by my mum who was a seamstress, and partly encouraged by my teachers who recognised my affinity for dressmaking, I enrolled in Central Saint Martin's to study Fashion Design. When I graduated, I started a menswear label, but was always drawn to collecting and designing shoes. When the label wrapped up in 2008, I looked at ways to merge the two main passions of my life: shoes and cycling – with cycling having increasingly become my main source of exercise, transport and mental retreat in the high-paced world of fashion – and that’s how QUOC began.
Where did you draw inspiration for the brand?
At the time, the cycling shoes that were available on the market mainly consisted of techy, race-orientated designs that were at odds with smarter, leather dress shoes that I was wearing off the bike. I felt inspired to create shoes that appealed to the discerning cyclist, and that celebrated the diverse ways that people enjoy bikes. At the time, I actually didn't do a lot of research into modern cycling shoes. I was really influenced by the classic era of cycling, the use of leather and suede, and the seasoned craftsmanship that had grown out of generations of British shoemaking tradition.
How did you go about learning the process of shoemaking?
I was a fashion designer and hadn’t trained in shoe making – so at the beginning, this process really came from love; the love of shoes, and the love of something very elegant on your feet. I started out visiting the tannery, learning everything I could about leather; where it comes from, what’s good leather, what’s bad leather, what’s the right thickness of leather for a shoe. Then I started educating myself in the last, visiting the final remaining lasting factory (based in Northampton), and understanding everything from the anatomy of the foot. The bones, the pressure points, how the blood flows. And finally, how the craftsmen sculpt their lasts from a block of wood.
How has the brand developed since then?
Coming from the fashion world, you're trained to adopt an entirely creative approach, to not worry too much about practicalities of making the product, to simply think outside of the box. But by growing a brand from the ground up, going through the motions of securing production, and talking to customers, you realise that cycling shoes need to be functional. You can't design a cycling shoe purely for fashion, or vanity. You can't ride comfortably in a narrow toe box. I really needed to adapt my thinking to design shoes that optimize utility as well as aesthetic. And that's when you see the Fixed England, or the classic Brogue designs develop slowly towards the more modern models, like the Gran Tourers or Mono II; when comfort, performance and function started to take priority.
QUOCs first shoe, Fixed England (left), launched in 2009. In 2021, QUOC launched
Mono II (right), representing the brand's most premium road shoe to date.
Do your more recent designs take a different design approach?
When we design our shoes now, we take a generative approach. We still retain that inherent design or artist thinking, taking inspiration from nature, thinking about colours and textures. We look at the customer’s feedback. We imagine what we’d create if there were no limitations. And we consider key sustainability issues and how we can contribute to minimizing those impacts. Then we take all those influences, and we assess the limitations and practicalities of production. The result is what we consider to be the optimal balance between style, function and manufacturing capability.
What do you think makes a good cycling shoe?
Something I realised about sports shoes in general, is that it’s much easier to make something complex than it is to make something simple. If you have lots of materials and pieces of fabric, you can hide imperfections. In a single cut of leather or microfiber, faults will show more obviously. However, at QUOC we construct uppers from only one or two single pieces of material, because for the user, it’s elegant and there’s less chance of something going wrong during a ride. Of course, that means the finishing needs to be better, construction needs to be more considered, but the result is an enhanced experience, a better product for the customer.
What did you learn from the process of designing shoes from scratch?
Some people might see learning from scratch as a hindrance but I definitely feel that we benefited from absorbing all of that knowledge first hand. When you’re a small company and go out on your own, learning everything from the factory floor, you retain greater control, and you make your own mistakes. And yes, if you’re not careful, it can bankrupt you, but there’s also the potential to learn and adapt quickly. Rather than being driven by huge, expensive market research exercises, we’re led by instinct.
How did you go about selecting your factories?
When I began visiting factories in Taiwan, Vietnam and China in person, I looked for partners that really understood the materials we were working with, (microfiber, carbon etc,) and that critically, really understood lasts. The mechanics of behind pulling the upper over the last is the single most important thing. And yes, the process can be automated as it often is now, but in any factory, a good last master and a bad last master can really make or break a product. Another thing I’ve learnt from having been part of the factory process for so long is how much waste is generated. In an average factory, 200 pairs of hands touch the shoes before they go into the box, which is 200 chances for defects to happen and products to go to waste. Good factories will produce better tooling and simplify methods to lower surplus material and defects. If you take the time to really understand the processes and methods, you can select your partners well and reduce the waste your brand generates overall.
What is the most important thing you’ve learnt over the years?
How important it is to have a great team around you. The fact that I get to work with people who are involved in cycling and love cycling is a huge plus. You look forward to going to work because of the amazing culture that we've cultivated, and the huge collective effort it has taken to get here. I’ve also learned to have confidence in my own ideas and to trust my own instincts. If there's a status quo and you're new to the industry, there's a tendency to doubt that new approaches are going to work. But some of the biggest risks I’ve taken so far have been the ones that have most paid off.
One of the first designs of the Gran Tourer gravel shoe.
What's next for QUOC?
We want to continue to offer our customers the same quality and comfort, but at an amazing price. We want more people to share the experience of riding in our shoes and to make them more accessible. As part of this, we’re always keeping one eye on the future and experimenting with new production methods. Whether it’s 3D printing or zero waste materials, we might not have everything we want now, but when it comes, we want to be ready. Cycling is constantly evolving, and we don't know what it’s going to look like in 10-years time, but we know that people are always going to need shoes! However the sport ends up developing and whatever new technologies are involved, we're committed to being at the forefront of all that.
]]>Winters in the UK are pretty bleak for riding. I’m based in London and tend to mainly ride around the South of England where the winter weather can only really be described as ‘meh’. I recently read a stat that stated we had only had 1.2 hours of sunlight in the last 16 days. Yeah, it’s dark, grey and tends to be wet.
Because of this, a lot of people escape to warmer climates to ride, however, with the current pandemic crisis we have going on, I didn’t want to risk travelling, so looked for other ways to get out and see what winter riding is all about, closer to home.
That led me to look at the road less travelled, or more specifically, off-road completely. I’m a road racer and rider, but I knew I needed to switch things up to get me motivated to ride throughout winter, outside. For me, winter riding isn’t about power numbers, training plans, staying fit etc. it’s about exploring, enjoying the adventure and falling back in love with riding so that when it comes to Jan and I start training for racing again, I’ve got the hunger to do so.
Dorset 330
Fortunately, as part of my ‘job’, I get the opportunity to document slightly mad rides. This tied in perfectly with my plan of switching up my riding and focusing more on off-road adventures, starting with the Dorset 330.
The Dorset 330 is a route in the South of England curated by off-road rider Harry Griffiths. The plan was to showcase that you can still find new adventures during winter, you just have to change your mentality a little. For example, riding 18 hours over two days, bringing along gravel shoes that perform well on and off the bike is something to consider, especially as there is a fair bit of ‘hike-a-bike’.
The ground and terrain tend to be heavier, which in turn, means you’re having to output more power while riding slower, plus, the harsher conditions do take a toll on your bike, increasing the chances of punctures and mechanicals. But, if you’re prepared, with the right kit and mentality, it can be just as fun as the adventures in the summer.
Sunrise to Sunset (or Sunset to Sunrise, as the case may be)
You’ve probably seen or heard about loads of people riding Sunrise to Sunset on the longest day, the Summer Solstice, but it had been done, and I wanted to test myself through the night. I hadn’t done a huge amount of night riding, so it was going to be a challenge, riding 4 pm - 8 am, but it excited me to go out and do something new, exactly what the winter is for.
Tom, at The Woods Cyclery, had kindly drawn up a route around the New Forest, the perfect playground for this sort of ride, arguably some of the best gravel riding you will find in the UK. Night riding is a whole different ball game, especially off-road, but even on the road. Your attention needs to be kept at all times, which I found out the hard way. As we were filming some content for road.cc, I had the GoPro out, but it’s pitch black and you can only see so far ahead of you. All of a sudden, I hit the deck, having not seen a massive branch sticking out into the path. This was at 60km, we still had 150km to go, I couldn’t give up now however, I had snapped my handlebar, but the adventure was calling my name so I decided to truck on.
Again, if it wasn’t for switching it up in winter and trying something new, I wouldn’t have had this crash which, in turn, makes me a mentally stronger rider that can overcome challenges. It wasn’t ideal, but at the end there is a story to share and a memory to look back on.
Festive 500
The last of my Winter adventure series saw me take on the Festive500, in one go. 500km in one go would be my longest ride, so I decided to use the gravel bike, for comfort, but mainly stick to the roads. Mapping out a route on komoot, I set off at 3am, into the darkness and into the all too familiar British winter drizzle.
The trend I see nowadays is people trying to find a ‘do-it-all bike’ and I think a gravel style bike, that can take up to 45c tyres, is the way to go. The second October hits, I’m straight onto my gravel/winter bike and the summer bike doesn’t see the outdoors until April. Not only because I want to keep my summer bike dry, I’ve got the gravel bike set-up for harsh winter conditions and longer days in the saddle, so it was the perfect compatriot for the 500km.
Ultimately, what I’m trying to get at is, if you’re based in a country that has harsh winters, look at switching up your adventures and trying new things: new places to visit, a slower pace that is more about working the mind than it is the legs. You’ll become a better rider for it, well, I have, anyway.
Happy riding.
Words, videos and routes by Bradley Shenton
Photos by Finley Newmark
]]>Who better to test out our Mono II road shoes than @fernwee.cc and @mikevlietstra ? The duo rode ‘the hardest route in the Dolomites’ racking up the kms and elevation all whilst wearing our lightest road shoes yet. The route really put our shoes through their paces, from long steep climbs, to narrow winding descents all in the heat of the Italian Dolomites.
From the first kilometre, the shoes were being critiqued as @mikevlietstra had not ridden in them before. Most cyclists like to wear in their shoes to get used to the fit and identify any hot-spots… not @mikevlietstra. His first ride in the Mono IIs was 8 hours in the saddle with a lot of climbing on new roads in new shoes.
So… the verdict?
Beautiful shoes? Check.
Stiff sole? Check.
Intuitive and easily adjustable dials? Check.
Beautiful shoes? Check.
Head over to @fernwee.cc YouTube to see the full vlog video of the day.
#afasteryou
Video: @fernwee.cc / @mikevlietstra
A few weeks ago our latest QUOC Ambassador @bicycle_factory (Tom Gibbs) spent the weekend in Wales at the Grinduro gravel race. As well as having a great weekend riding, he also took some beautiful photographs.
Tom is a bikepacking and adventure cyclist based in London U.K. Having been raised on skateboarding and fixed gear bikes his focus turned to off-road cycling to escape the busy city life and to have a laugh in nature with his friends.
A love for photography started to develop as a means to document his rides and trips and to bring a constant creative element his cycling. More recently he’s been drawn to endurance events such as the Atlas Mountain Race and Great British Divide where he’ll put our Gran Tourer gravel shoes to the test. He aims to document the events from a rider’s perspective giving insight into locations and sections of trails that media teams find trickier to access.
He hopes that through his work he can encourage others to unlock the same positivity that cycling has given him and to help support the U.K. off-road scenes.
All Terrain Exploration Gear is a new direction for The Service Course. Inspired by the unknown and designed for adventure, the Gran Tourer x ATEG shoe kicks off a capsule collection of gear built to perform on the sort of unforgettable terrain that TSC founder, Christian Meier and crew regularly ride and compete on. And as the team's favourite gravel bike shoe for local skirmishes and multi-day epics alike, it was a logical step to create a new colourway of the Gran Tourer for the launch of ATEG.
"For me, the best thing about these shoes is the wearability and walkability, the balance between stiffness for performance while still being very walkable and comfortable in off-bike situations," explains Christian. "The rubber soles have really great grip on rocks and wet surfaces, just when you need it. And, aesthetically they are straight-up beauties."
The QUOC x ATEG shoe inherits the latest updates to the Gran Tourer platform and features a unique colourway and ATEG branding. Additionally, a subtle 3M reflective treatment to the olive upper band works in tandem with the rear heel reflective strip to enhance low light visibility.
]]>Since the Night Mono Strap photoshoot of last year, where - to answer the many questions - we rode a titanium silver dream machine from UK manufacturer, Enigma, the bike has garnered almost as much attention as the shoes themselves. And that’s just the way it should be.
A few weeks back, we had the opportunity to chat with Jim Walker, CEO of Enigma, about the brand, reinvention and the challenges of manufacturing bikes in the UK. And as it turns out, we’ve all been here before.
When, and why did you start Enigma?
Around 2006. I'd had a bike-based distribution business in the UK called Jim Walker. After I sold that, an opportunity arose when a company called Omega Titanium, a UK-based bike brand went bust around the same time. I figured that there was a possibility to take what they were doing and develop something a little different.
So you inherited from Omega the people, and all of the equipment to make the same bikes?
No, no, they didn't make anything, Omega, they were a brand. It was built on, how can I put it? People thought they were made in the UK, but the frames were actually made in Russia.
But then you decided to make in the UK, which wouldn't be most people's first, second or even third choice.
And I do often wonder why I did that. But no, when I started the bike business, 40, or however many years it ago, I started with a then British manufacturer, which was Dawes Cycles. You know, Dawes made everything in Birmingham. We had lots of competition with many British manufacturers at the time - Falcon, Holdsworth and others. And you know, we made millions of bikes in the UK. Contrast that with recent times when we only made something like 20... 30,000 bikes per year. It's fair to say the decline was catastrophic. And of those 20 or 30,000, probably most of those would've been built by Brompton even at that time.
It must have given you confidence that building bikes in the UK had been done before, at volume and successfully?
That's quite right, although I felt that we would have no way of competing in terms of mass production; that was not even remotely possible. But I did think that we could compete at the higher end. And you know, I have to say that when we started, there was no way we could be at the top of the market because we didn't have any experience in what we were doing. But we did chuck a fair bit of money at it, and yeah, we got to grips with it. And you know, here we are now, and we make a world-class product here in England.
Presumably, a lot of the challenge in getting going was finding the people with the skills. Did you find people that already knew how to weld?
Well, no is the honest answer to that. And it makes me laugh when I think about it now, but my son was working with me at the time. One day I said Joe, "Mate, you're going to be a frame builder." I know it sounds bizarre, but that is the truth. That's how it was. So, he was obviously in fear of the task in front of him, but to be fair to him, he learnt how to do it, and he is pretty much entirely self-taught. He had the benefit of Mark Reilly, who was the Omega owner at the time. Mark used to build steel frames years ago, but he didn't know how to weld entire frames. So, Joe learnt it himself and did a brilliant job.
And you started with not only steel but titanium frames, too?
Yes indeed. Although, you know, 90% of our businesses is titanium; the steel side of it is still relatively small.
Is that because of what the market is dictating?
Yes, it is. It's because of the market, and it's because we have expertise in titanium, that very few other people have. There are lots of steel builders, but there are very few who build with ti.
Why is that, do you think?
It isn't easy. But once you understand it, you know how it works, and then it's a wonderful material. But getting to grips with it is difficult. And bear in mind, we had no help. There was no one we could ask and say, "Well, look, how do you do this?" That's why I say that we threw a load of money at it because we did.
You must be pretty pleased with what you're making now - the bikes look incredible.
We're incredibly pleased. It's terrific when you go to shows like the NAHBS or Bespoke over here. You're there amongst your competitors, a lot of whom are friends. But you're there amongst them, and you can see where you are relative to your competitors. And you can also see how far you've come, from what we've produced originally, to what we produce now.
Is what you're doing now just a continuation of Dawes - a modern, small-batch version of the same thing?
It's very different. Our product is vastly superior. When I was working with Dawes, I have to say that the quality of some of the stuff that we produced was not great, to be honest. It was certainly not at the sort of level of product that we create here by any stretch of the imagination.
I guess there's a danger of looking back at the past and thinking everything was perfect.
Yes, but it wasn't like that, to be honest. The quality level was nothing like what we have here. And that's mostly down, I think, to the workforce. Because the team we have here, they're all very, very passionate about what they do. They enjoy it. You know, I remember my time at Dawes, the guys, they just wanted to turn up to eight o'clock, do their work, do their shift, go as fast as possible, and go home. What we do is very, very different. And it does require commitment and passion from the team.
And now, because you can jump into someone's workshop through the eye of Instagram, there's no room for anything less than your best.
Yeah, I think that's a very good point. And yeah, you are under scrutiny all of the time now. You can't afford to cut corners, and you need to be seen to be at the top of your game all of the time.
You are a UK brand, in every sense. Is the home market the strongest for you?
The home market is the strongest, but we are certainly growing our overseas business now. We do sell frames all over the world, and enquiries are increasing enormously, especially in the last few months.
Photos by @gene_torno @kylethornhill @patrck.lee @zackpianko
]]>When you embark on an unsupported bike race far away from home, you better be prepared. But what to pack? What works? And will there be wi-fi? With more questions than answers, we asked Silk Road racer and 20th position finisher, Max Riese to come clean on the kit he used to finish at the sharp end of one of the world's hardest endurance bike races.
Nothing about The Silk Road Mountain Race is easy. Just getting to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan to start this 1700km, self-supported bike race is a mini-adventure. And when you arrive, ahead of you lays 27,000m of climbing over a course even kindly observers might describe as 'a bit rocky’.
A couple of weeks after completing the event, we caught up with Max as he decompressed and readjusted to life back home in Salzburg. "I never did a race this long," he admits. "But the more I was in it, the less I thought about how others are doing, or whether I'd lose place if I went to sleep. You're just in sync with your mind and body. It's this weird kind of meditation sometimes when you're on the bike, and all you think about is being happy because it's so beautiful and you're making good progress.”
For the majority of riders, food and water are top priorities. But the Silk Road is a race, and every gram counts. So how much do you take, and how much do you rely on re-ups along the way? "I was going into the race pretty conservative; others took a completely different strategy," Max says. "For example, Lael Wilcox and I were talking before the race, and she was only going to carry food for one day - essentially going on the edge. But I knew from my experience in the mountains back home, that if a severe storm appeared and I got trapped in the tent for a couple of days, I could get into trouble. So I knew that I needed to have more food! I took so much that I could have survived for up to seven or eight days stuck in one place. But it was a lot of weight!" Still, in the tense final moments before the start, the lay-it-on-the-line approach of other racers did give Max pause to doubt his strategy. "I saw many people packing light," he recalls, "and I did wonder whether I might have overreacted and carried too much. But I can honestly say, no, I wouldn't have done it any other way.”
If nutrition is a concern, keeping hydrated is even higher on the endurance cyclist's list of priorities. But as Max explains, managing, not finding water was the real issue during The Silk Road. "Kyrgyzstan has lots of streams, and most of them are fast-running and crystal clear," he notes. "But you don't want to have two small bottles of water and have to fill up every two hours or something - that won't work because it's getting you out of your rhythm." Or provide enough hydration during the race's long, dry stretches, either. "The Chinese Highway, for example, is just a dead, straight road," he says. "You're just going through a desert for 200km. And if you don't have enough water there, you have a huge problem." In the end, Max carried four litres of water, augmenting it with an additional bottle strapped to the top tube as a fail-safe in extreme conditions. "Thankfully, I managed fine," he says with relief. "I had a two-litre bladder and two one-litre bottles with me all the time. And for the stretch of 340 kilometres along the Chinese Highway where it was difficult to get to resupply, I took an extra 1.5-litre bottle - I didn't need it, but it gave peace of mind.”
Our conversation turns to camp gear - specifically, tents. "If you're camping close to home and there's a thunderstorm, that's a whole different thing to being in a thunderstorm above 3,000 metres," Max explains. "It gets a lot colder with altitude, and the weather becomes increasingly hard to predict."
Informed by his experiences at home in the Austrian mountains, Max chose something light, and cosy. "I didn't want to carry a two or three-kilogram tent," he says, "which is why I went with an ultra-lightweight model - it's awesome." And he didn't want to bivvy, either. "I saw other riders just pulling a sheet over themselves to sleep - I could not imagine doing that," he laughs. "No, I just wanted to have my breakfast in my tent and not freeze my ass off before even getting on the bike.”
Max also picked an equally cosy sleeping bag. "I had a really warm model, rated to -8° (17.6°F)," he says. "On the first night, temperatures dropped to -12° (10.4°F). During the day, I'd climbed 5000 metres, and was exhausted. And of course, I couldn't build up any heat." Still, some participants chose weight over warmth. "I was seriously scared of spending the entire race cold and sleep-deprived," he admits. "So even though I got cold a couple of times, mostly I was ok. I hate to think what it would have been like with something lighter."
But whether you choose a tent or a bivvy, how long should you sleep? "I needed to build a rhythm," Max says. "I only slept between four to five hours per night, and then I would get up and breakfast and get on the bike. But I needed that routine. Everyone is different, but I can recommend trying to get a flow going and staying in your comfort zone.”
Clothing is the next conundrum. When prepping for a bike race of extreme conditions, how do you know what to take? "I took two jerseys, one thin sports jersey for the scorching days, and a warmer jersey for the cold days," Max explains. "I also had a long sleeve, a waterproof jacket and shorts, and a down jacket - that was a good decision." But like many riders who manage to keep warm, but suffer from cold hands, Max struggled with cycling gloves. "I would have probably packed two pairs of gloves," he says. "Even though the ones I had were Gore wind blocker or whatever, they got wet. If you're going through hours of rain, at some point, they're just gone. And then your hands are numb, and that's a shit feeling - you can't even put your tent when you have numb hands. A second pair would have helped.”
Happy with his waterproof shorts, Max would nevertheless have preferred to take fully waterproof bike pants. "I don't usually like wearing long pants on the bike because I prefer to maintain freedom of movement" he explains. "But I would have probably gone with waterproof pants - long legs - to have a bit more coverage from the elements.”
We'd be remiss if we didn't mention shoes at this point. Max tackled the Silk Road in our Gran Tourer bike shoes, footwear specifically-designed for the rigours of hike-a-bike, bikepacking and all flavours of gravel riding. How did he get on? "Man, I saw BOA dials flying off, shoes so damaged I honestly wondered how people could continue," he laughs. "But the GTs were awesome - super comfortable. And they seemed very resistant to water ingress, too.”
Deciding on the type of bike you should take to race the Silk Road is a whole separate post. But having ridden this famously rocky course on a rigid machine, for Max, the decision to ride with suspension in the future rests on a fork. Or rather, not being able to hold one for a week after the event. "Some of the roads are not just gravel, or rocky - they're destroyed," he laughs. "At times, every ligament in my body was screaming. And yes, the terrain was so bumpy that I couldn't hold a fork in my left hand for at least a week after the event. I've never had that before."
Max rode with what might be considered a pretty capable gravel bike, but perhaps a hard-tail mountain bike with front suspension might have been a better choice? "Yes, it's probably worth considering," he admits. "Or a gravel bike with wider tires and a Lauf fork, perhaps. But really, it depends on what kind of rider you are. I love having drop bars - I'm used to that because I come from a road cycling background, and cross country and all that stuff. So really, go with what you know but have a solution for the extremes of terrain."
I put it to Max that it the one overriding takeaway from our chat seems to be: soften the extremes. "Yeah. I would generally agree with that," he says. "If I had a shitty day, I knew I could push through it. If it rained, I had the clothes to keep myself dry, and at night, warm in my tent." And as he notes, in extreme conditions, keeping something in reserve could save your life, too. "If you're on the edge in a race like this, you have to realise that one small mistake, one health issue or a gathering storm could spell disaster. Being prepared for all eventualities will always serve you well."
Words of a true mountaineer.
Photo credits: Danil Usmanov, Jeff Liu, Rugile Kaladyte and of course, Max Riese.
Interview by Peter Harrington
]]>As a working snapper and a cyclist, I've spent a fair amount of time honing the kit and techniques that help me to take pro-level shots while I'm out on the bike. In this blog, I'd like to share some of the things I've learned to help you capture consistently better shots. First off, let's start with the camera.
Camera
It's taken me a little while to figure out which camera is best to take with me on the bike. I've tried bulky DSLRs with different lenses, and at the other extreme, taken only an iPhone with me on the ride, but neither worked as I hoped. It took some time, but eventually I found I found an optimal solution: the Sony RX100. This powerful compact point and shoot camera can capture raw files and is slim and light enough to slip into a small pocket. It has a bright lens with a decent zoom range and offers more than enough control over settings. It might not give you the look of the full-frame DSLR with a prime lens, but it won't give you the back pain either. Crucially, it won't affect your cycling performance.
The latest Sony RX100 version is quite pricey, so if you’re on a budget, earlier iterations like the MKIII and IV are well worth checking out. Not only do these models have the potential to take shots at the same fidelity as later versions, but they come in well under what the latest model will cost you, albeit with a few less features.
Strap
Once I had settled on a camera, I needed to think about how to carry it on the bike. Keeping the camera in a jersey pocket isn't ideal as it's not water/sweat proof, plus it's almost impossible to take a photo without stopping. So I started searching for alternative options and found this strap on Etsy (the Slow Strap from Mettle Cycling is also worth a look if you ride with a mirrorless camera). Of course, you could choose any camera strap, but the cross-body stabiliser stops the camera from flipping around when you're cycling. The model above has such a stabiliser, secured via a slim magnet connection which makes it easy to unclip, grab your camera and take a shot with only one hand.
Safety First
No shot is worth risking one's health or life for. If you don't feel comfortable using your camera while riding, don't do it. Instead, stop safely on the side of the road and challenge yourself to be creative while stationary.
Composition
If you see something worth capturing, take the next step and try to plan out the shot in your head. Don't forget to utilise the rule of thirds and other compositional methods to help to draw attention to the subject of your shot. As you gain experience, composing the scene will start to become more feel than thought. But if in doubt, make the most of lines - a straight or windy road, tree line or fence can help to draw the eye.
Capture Some Action
Try to get some action shots by controlling your shutter speed on the camera. To do that you'll have to switch your camera to Manual mode or Shutter Priority. Set your shutter below 1/100sec and try panning - following your subject or moving along as they ride by. Just make sure your subject is in focus, otherwise, everything will be blurry. Practice is key!
Think Lighting
Understanding how to use light as a tool will set you on a path towards taking truly exceptional shots. My favourite time of day for photography is during the so-called 'golden hour', which occurs early in the morning and late in the evening when the sun is low, the shadows are long, and everything is suffused with a soft golden light. If you have a camera that allows manual exposure control, you can get some genuinely captivating results out of a sunset or sunrise session.
Post Production
I like to think of post-production as polishing a diamond; it's not always necessary, but it helps. There are plenty of free apps out there for your phone and laptop. I use a paid Adobe package which is also available on mobile. Again, experience will help you to find your style.
Get Inspired
I probably shouldn't encourage more time on social media, but these days it's the easiest way of finding image inspiration. Follow as many cycling photographers and see what other people do, challenging yourself to take similar shots to the ones that grab your eye. If you want to take better photos, you have to shoot thousands of them - there is no shortcut. I like Rouleur magazine, as I find it visually attractive and a source of great for inspiration to get out there and start snapping.
Words & Photos by Maciek Tomiczek
Many thanks to Bike Zone in Oxford for the loan of the Bombtrack bike during the shoot.
From the moment we announced the GT, the camo print styles proved to be most popular colours in the range. First released back in 2018, our Vietnamese Tigerstyle / UK topographical map design quickly caught the eye of mixed-terrain adventurers looking to blend into their surroundings. It also looked pretty cool.
With a new production run on the horizon, we took the opportunity to make the camo print bolder and more defined, switching to a screen print method that affords deeper colours.
On the bike, anything that takes you out of the moment is bad. And for road cyclists, foot pain is often top of the list. It starts with an ache, a pinch and before long, you're thinking about your feet - and who wants to do that?
Thankfully, since wearing Quoc shoes, John's foot problems have long since departed. "After many long days on the bike, the Quoc Mono feels like a glove on my foot. It's stiff, yet relenting - which is the key for comfort when going out for a long, fast ride," he says. "Every time I look down on the bike, I'm still surprised that I'm even wearing shoes."
John's comments are echoed by another Mono tester, Max Riese, who took things to extremes with an extended single-session ride from his hometown of Salzburg. "The only point where I thought about the shoes was while I put them on," he recalls. "Even after 400km in the saddle, I didn't even think about my feet hurting or being uncomfortable. That's amazing: no blisters, no numb spots. I walked into the office on Monday like I'd had a chilled Sunday ride."
But no matter how important it is to be comfortable, if your road cycling shoes don't look good, you won't be inspired to ride. When we designed Mono, our guiding principle was simplicity. In other words, Mono had to complement your existing kit, not complicate it. And for riders like John, clean design is everything. "I'm never truly comfortable on a bike if my style is slightly off," he admits. "Things like the wrong length of sock or odd colour patterns take a bit of the ride away for me. But the Monos are the perfect combination of technical excellence and pared-down style. They look and feel right."
With so much apparent innovation in the bike industry, you might be forgiven for thinking that everything worth doing has already been done. Not so for cycling shoes. Most brands take a pre-existing mould (a 'last'), switch the upper, slap on a logo and call it good. It's the shoe equivalent of an open mould carbon frame: average and everywhere.
Mono, just like every Quoc shoe, starts with a different mindset. Each model in our range is created with a wholly new shape, designed from scratch in-house and made to our exacting specifications by premium partners. Our shoes are unique, and as such, you won't find them anywhere else. And while it's not the easiest or most economical route a brand can take, it does mean that we can create better shapes and maximise comfort. It means we can innovate.
"Comfort to me is about the lack of noticeable flaws, and these shoes are simply comfortable. That's why I'm excited to share them with the Rodeo community."
Stephen has ridden our stock GT model in all weathers and conditions over the past few months, notching up more than six thousand miles of hassle-free adventure. "The shoes have continued to hold up brilliantly, and that impressed me," he enthuses. "The soles aren't peeling off, the uppers aren't scratched to oblivion, and they seem to clean up wonderfully after the muddy days. I spend a lot of time scrambling around on foot on my more aggressive bike rides and I need shoes that are supremely comfortable and durable. The fact that they also happen to be visually appealing is simply an added bonus."
With its mint green band and a near-white upper, the Rodeo GT is a stylistic departure from the current Quoc colour palette. "We love the celeste colour that we used for the rubberised portion of the upper because it reminds us of United States Forest Service vehicles," he explains. "Those vehicles tend to be painted a similar shade of green and are used to transport rangers and stewards of so many of the forests that we love to play in." Whereas the uppers are all confidence: "White isn't an obvious colour to use for a shoe that will quite probably end up getting filthy," Stephen admits. "But having seen how well my original pair of GTs cleaned up, I wasn't apprehensive about the shoes looking ragged after a few adventures. I also kind of like the idea of the shoe slowly taking on the patina of the riding that it had been exposed to."
Colours aside, the Rodeo x Quoc shoe inherits the same build and fit as the other GT models in our gravel cycling shoe series. And thanks to his extended test of our standard GT model, Stephen is already well-prepared for size questions. "People have asked me, 'Is the shoe narrow? Is the shoe wide? How is the arch? How is the toe box?'" he says. "I don't think much about the shoe's fit when I'm out riding because I don't notice the shoes at all, they just disappear. Comfort to me is about the lack of noticeable flaws, and these shoes are simply comfortable. That's why I'm excited to share them with the Rodeo community."
I’ve been through a few long-term shoe relationships. First Mavic, then Fizik and most recently Giro. I’ve had a few affairs along the way with some cheap kicks that caught my eye, but despite the initial attraction (often price reductions), these didn’t last long at all. I’ve learned enough along the way to know what is important for me in a pair of cycling shoes.
Prior to testing the Quoc shoes, I had been happily riding lace-up Giros for both road and also gravel for quite some time.
...a fastening technology that more closely resembles lego than velcro. I’ll admit I was sceptical, even after having closed the shoes for the first time. I expected that the straps would pop open when I laid down my limited power. I was wrong.
My first reaction to seeing the Mono Nights was that they were visually clean. I’m a fan of uncluttered, functional, borderline-minimal design and I liked what I saw. The shoes are a picture of restraint, with nothing added that doesn’t serve a purpose.
Despite the impracticality of my choice, I prefer white shoes and accept that this means I will have white shoes for a few days, then varying degrees of off white as the rides clock up. I still opted for the white, when given the choice for the Mono Nights. As well as being my preferred colour generally, I felt they showcased the shoe’s subtle features just a little more than the stealthy version. I’ll admit I’m probably in the minority here though. One aspect of the black version that I did like was the tone on tone look and I would have been happy with off-white logos on the white versions too, going full-on for that minimal style. The black logos are not overbearing though.
Recently the closure systems on high-end shoes have polarised between high tech cables and dials, such as the Boa system, on one hand, and low tech laces on the other. Straps are still around of course, but I see them less and less. The Mono Nights have straps with a difference. Well, two differences. Firstly, on the top side, they maintain the clean aesthetic of the rest of the shoe. There is a simple but effective adjustment system avoids the ugly issue of misaligned straps. A nice touch. The second difference is hidden on the underside; a fastening technology that more closely resembles lego than velcro. I’ll admit I was sceptical, even after having closed the shoes for the first time. I expected that the straps would pop open when I laid down my limited power. I was wrong. I’ve got a lot of confidence in the straps now. The added benefits of easy cleaning and silent operation were also not immediately obvious but will be very welcome for those who need them.
I use Speedplay pedals and had no issues fitting the cleats to the standard three bolt system on the sole, as you would expect. From experience, I was able to set up the cleats to my usual position easily as well. What was less expected was just how comfortable the shoes felt, even from the very first pedal strokes. The sizing in terms of length, width and heel cup all felt very similar to my Giros. This is a good thing, for me at least. It's not unusual for shoes (cycling or otherwise) to need a little breaking in period. That was certainly not the case here. The first two rides I did with the shoes were both over 100Km and were completed without any pressure points or slipping at all. And even without the need to adjust the straps. At a cafe stop during the first ride, I noted how I really hadn’t thought about the shoes much at all while wearing them, and that’s a sign that they are doing their job well. There were no niggles wriggling their way into my conscious. I could just get on with enjoying the ride. That’s what we want, right?
We’ve been lucky to have had some warm weather in Salzburg recently so the ventilation holes on the upper, which trace the curve of the sole, were put to the test, and passed. I didn’t have any overheating issues. Of course, if you happen to get caught in the rain then moisture will get in a little quicker than without the ventilation, but that’s a fair trade off in my eyes. You get wet feet in the rain regardless if you’re not prepared with overshoes. There is a drainage vent on the underside, should you get soaked, but I’m happy to have not tested this yet. The same goes for winter; you can always add extra layers on top to keep warm. It's not uncommon for double overshoes to be required in the freezing Austrian winters and the ventilation holes are not going to make much difference either way once that is factored in, so that’s also not a worry.
There are a number of things in cycling that seem to the uninitiated as though they should be uncomfortable; saddles are often the first to be questioned. Extra stiff soles could be added to that list, but just like thin race bike saddles, I wouldn’t have it any other way. When I’m cycling, I’m cycling. I do little walking, so my gear is optimised for that. From the bike to the cafe table is about as far as I go on foot. I’ve become so accustomed to stiff soles and the wonderfully direct response that they provide when stamping on the pedals, that even the slightest ‘give’ feels soft and squishy. The soles of the Night Monos were just as I like them; very stiff. Soft soles would have been a deal breaker for me, so this was another well thought out design choice. You can’t blame your lack of KoMs on watts lost through bending soles!
It's hard to comment on durability after only a few hundred Kms, other than to say there have been no issues so far. The manufacturing levels, even of the pre-production models I tested, seems to be very high. As I mentioned above, white shoes are not going to stay perfectly white for long, but the Night Monos did seem to be particularly susceptible to marks - more so than other shoes I’ve used. I understand that materials used in the final versions will address this to a certain degree though, which is good to hear. I can have white shoes for a few more days!
Moving to the sole again and I was worried to see what looked like a non-replaceable heel pad. Even with my limited walking, this is always likely to be a weak link and is usually the first point of failure for road cycling shoes, after long usage. I should have learned already to have more confidence. So much care and attention have gone into the other parts of the shoe that I should have known this wouldn’t have been overlooked. Indeed, a quick glance inside, under the insole reveals the bolt that allows the pad to be replaced. Not only was this not missed, but it's also an improvement over many other shoes. With the bolt on the inside, it's protected from damage, so when the time comes to replace the pad, you’ll have no problems. Simple, but clever.n
There are a number of things in cycling that seem to the uninitiated as though they should be uncomfortable; saddles are often the first to be questioned. Extra stiff soles could be added to that list.
Cafe stop chat often revolves around cycling as well. We can’t get enough of it, it seems. Any new gear never goes unnoticed - and the owner can expect a cross-examination. The group on my second ride with the Quoc shoes were quite taken with the Mono Nights, requiring me to take them off and pass them around for a closer inspection. Are they aero? Are they stiff? Are they light? The important questions always come first. In the case of the weight (and lack thereof), the shoes suggest that immediately once you pick them up, but go one step further and confirm it in writing (220g), as noted on the ‘specification’ text on the heel. They are clearly stiff to use and the dimpled surface is claimed to help air flow. I’ve got no reason to doubt that but no wind tunnel to test it. See, I told you I wasn’t obsessive about cycling tech!
Also on the heel is quite a large reflective section that is useful for low light riding but remains almost invisible otherwise. We’ll add that to the list of nice touches.
The pricing for the shoes seems quite reasonable given their excellent performance and is around the norm for high-end road bike shoes. In cycling, style and a sense of exclusivity often command a sizable premium. The Night Monos will provide generous helpings of both, on top of their functionality, so in that respect, the pricing looks even better. Overall, I would happily recommend these shoes.
We love laces; we also love straps - just not with velcro. So while fielding questions about dials and other closure mechanisms, we went on a research trip to find an alternative. A few months ago, while travelling in Japan, we found it.
Block Tape is like Lego for apparel - a soft press close and it secures anything. And it’s almost silent. Where velcro rips and raps, Block Tape purrs. On shoes, it’s a revelation. Except it had never been used on shoes until we innovated a solution in-house and trialled it on the Night Mono, our latest road cycling shoe, and first ever non-lace model.Once we had our velcro killer, everything came together rather quickly. Block Tape inspired the shoe's Bolt Straps™, which informed the Aerofoil™ upper - a highly technical tri-material sandwich that marries microfibre, support and drag-reducing dimples - which influenced the airy sides and padded, perforated tongue. Once we’d made a bespoke carbon fibre sole, tapered in areas of low stress to trim grams, and strengthened across the cleat and arch to lay down lossless power, we nearly had the shoe made.
While we were thinking and making Night Mono, our gravel bike shoe, the Gran Tourer, was starting to go through the roof. Of all the things the bikepacking community loved about the GT, the one word we kept hearing was comfort. Unbelievable comfort.
So we took the Gran Tourer’s shoe mould (a ’last’ in shoe parlance) and tuned it to the Mono’s new carbon sole and upper. The result is a shoe that feels quite amazingly comfortable out on the road, despite its race-grade performance. And because we based it on the GT’s last, owners of our gravel bike shoe can slip right into the same size in Mono.
But we also knew we could go further. Road riders put out a lot of power. Whether climbing at a consistent wattage, or peaking at the sprint, road cyclists need support across the foot to help transfer power to the pedals, and not into the shoe itself.
To ensure smooth power delivery and to elevate comfort, Mono ships with three, six and nine millimetre arch support inserts. Add in the fact that the shoe's straps can unwrap and change position to cater for low or high volume feet, and Mono is ready to offer custom comfort and maximum power for almost every foot shape.
Night Mono is the culmination of years of experience making cycling shoes. To make it light, fast and exceptionally comfortable, we had to find new materials and devise new production processes. In short, it’s the finest performance road cycling shoe we know how to make. And it’s available to order today.
Pedaler - How long have you been working on Weekend?
Quoc - At least two years. And the reason for that is because we build all our shoes from scratch. We don’t use pre-existing lasts (the 3-dimensional mould upon which the shoe is constructed), or factory starting points. All our shoes start from an idea, a hand-sculpted in-house last, and end with an entirely new and unique shoe. Not a lot of brands do that. It’s time-consuming, challenging and filled with hurdles. But it’s the only way to achieve true comfort, fit and balance.
Pedaler - Where did the idea for the shoe come from?
Quoc - More or less from my own life. I bike between meetings, to the office and generally hop on and off the bike throughout the day. So I wanted to create a performance sneaker that offered the best of both worlds: comfortable to walk in, and also super-efficient on the pedal. But it also had to include environmental innovation. And it had to use elastic laces that once tied, could stay tied, even if you wanted to remove the shoe, or put it back on.
Pedaler - And it works?
Quoc - Yes, very well. The elastic provides a nice measure of give when you walk, but not enough that your foot feels like it’s going to exit the shoe. And on the bike, the pedalling motion is more toe-heavy and puts very little pressure on the heel cup, so again, the elastic holds the foot securely. Whenever you need to remove your shoes, a swift pull on the heel and you’re out. To re-enter, lift the tongue and slip your foot back in - no need to untie the laces. But of course, we also include a pair of standard laces alongside the elastic ones for the traditionalists.
Pedaler - With its strong sneaker aesthetic, Weekend doesn’t seem like a shoe that would have clip-in functionality. Can you talk us through why you included that feature?
Quoc - It comes down to completeness and the design aesthetic of the shoe. On the bike, connecting with the pedal is so much more efficient, comfortable and safer than just placing your foot on the pedal. It’s also pretty easy to slip off the pedals while commuting in non-cycling shoes, especially in the wet.
From a design perspective, Weekend is styled like a sneaker. And in this day and age, people wear sneakers for almost everything. Which means that if someone wants to hit the trails, tackle long commutes or even do a spin session, Weekend has to perform like a clip-in compatible bike shoe.
Pedaler - Were there challenges in recessing the clipless area enough so that walking was unaffected?
Quoc - It’s a challenge, but we’ve including clipless soles on our urban cycling line for several seasons now, so we’ve got it dialled. Our approach is to make the rubber on the sole a little bit thicker. You have to be careful - too much, and the cleats won’t engage cleanly on some pedal systems. But by adding a little extra sole thickness, the cleat stays nicely away from the floor. More rubber underfoot also helps the durability of the shoe in the long run, too.
Pedaler - With the dual demands of walking and riding, how did you approach managing the stiffness of the sole?
Quoc - We trialled a few options, and eventually settled on a nylon glass fibre material mid-board, often seen in football shoes. It’s stiff from the arc to the heel but flexible at the toe box.
Pedaler - Presumably when you embed a cleat box, you have to be sure of the material?
Quoc - You do. The issue is that we’re asking the mid-board to do a couple of things at once: to bend and to be stiff. But with the particular blend of nylon glass fibre that we developed for Weekend, we’ve achieved a great balance. I think our customers are going to enjoy it.
Pedaler - Considering the tech involved, the whole shoe is a very pared-down silhouette.
Quoc - That’s intentional. I didn't want to go too crazy with knit, or make something abstract just for the sake of it. Every decision came back to whether it would create the simple, classic aesthetic that everyone understands. And that extends to the features, too. For example, the colour-matched rubber toe area is reflective. But it doesn’t stand out as being reflective; it’s just part of the design, yet it does double-duty to help keep you visible to other road users.
Pedaler - So in simplicity, versatility?
Quoc - Exactly. You can dress it up when you go out, or you can slip it on and take a spin around town, transitioning from the bike to the coffee shop without missing a beat. Or as we talked about, you can go for a gravel ride, workout, or ride some slabs on a mountain bike course. It’s amazingly versatile.
Pedaler - And that uncluttered approach extends to caring for the shoe?
Quoc - Absolutely. The upper is weather-resistant, so it's just a case of taking a simple wet cloth and brushing the shoe down to clean it. Or you can put it in the washing machine, and it will come out in shape, as good as new.
Pedaler - How did the collaboration with Bloom, and their plant-based foam come about?
Quoc - I'd been following their progress for some time. But it was only relatively recently that we had the opportunity to try it, and see that it matched the durability of EVA. So we started talking and trialled some prototypes with the Bloom sole, and we loved it - high performance, grip and durability, greatly reduced EVA content, and all of the associated benefits of cleaner water and less carbon. Hopefully, this is just the start of our partnership.
How’s this for a thought: Everything you ever desired, owned, used and discarded, now resides in a refuse pile - buried, out of sight, out of mind but very much still around. Or this: The plastic we make today will still be here in 1000 years; quite possibly 10,000. Well, not here with us exactly. It will be in the fish we eat, the water we drink and the air we breathe - just as it is today.
But at least we can thank the reality of want and waste for finally getting the ‘Let’s Not Kill and Poison Absolutely Everything’ conversation started, turning eco from a sneered-at nirvana to a force for change that is empowering brands to build better.
“We're here to solve a problem,” says Jon Van Drunen, Project Manager of footwear at Bloom. “That is, we’re here to get algae back under control.” Which, as mission statements go, is no great shakes. But as Jon explains over the phone from the company’s HQ in Mississippi, algae with ambition is not good news. “Algae is ordinarily a positive thing, but too much of it causes serious problems. Most people don’t realise that.” He’s not kidding. Combine runoff nutrients from farms with over-pollution and an abundance of sunshine and heat, and you get an outbreak of algae blooms - stagnant swamp-like infestations that befoul formerly pleasant ponds, lakes and rivers, cut off oxygen supplies in the water, kill fish, plant life, decrease home values and even put human health at risk.
The plastic we make today will still be here in 1000 years; quite possibly 10,000. Well, not here with us exactly. It will be in the fish we eat, the water we drink and the air we breathe - just as it is today.
And most damagingly of all, algae blooms hurt precious fresh water sources. “So we restore balance by taking excess algae and turning it into useful products that people can use, like our performance EVA-replacement footwear foam that Quoc is using in its Weekend city cycling shoe,” Jon explains.
On the plastic pollution awareness scale, the EVA (Ethylene vinyl acetate) that gives your sneakers spring isn’t yet as in focus as the plastic in your weekly shopping bag, but in many ways, it’s far worse. EVA foam is all but unrecyclable; so whether you burn it, which releases volatile organic compounds and contributes to the formation of tropospheric ozone harmful to humans and plants, bury it, or grind up the scraps to make a less performance-dependent product, there is no good end of life solution to the 20 billion pairs of shoes that are produced every year.
Back in 2010, Algix, the company behind Bloom wasn’t thinking about how to reduce our reliance on EVA. Instead, they were experimenting with how to get the oil out of algae for use in biofuels. “It's an interesting concept but it's kind of expensive to do, and it takes some time,” Jon says. “So we did some initial tests on the algae biomass itself and found that it was high in proteins. And we realised that plastic is made up of proteins as well. So we thought, ‘Let's try blending it and make a more sustainable plastic.’”
Instead of blowing up the algae cells to get at the oil inside, Algix attempted to use the entire algae cell, the whole biomass, an approach that led them to an unexpected discovery. “That's how we initially came across the huge algae problem in the world - we are looking for it, and lo and behold, algae is everywhere!” he laughs. “So we developed a mobile harvesting system which we can deploy wherever the source is, whether that be a lake, or pond, or riverbed. One flip of a switch and we can start harvesting algae.”
On the plastic pollution awareness scale, the EVA (Ethylene vinyl acetate) that gives your sneakers spring isn’t yet as in focus as the plastic in your weekly shopping bag, but in many ways, it’s far worse.
Past efforts at part-replacing sneaker EVA have failed for a simple reason: performance. EVA is amazingly good at what it does, and it's durable as hell. “The footwear industry has been starving for an eco-friendly EVA foam,” Jon explains. “And until now, there hasn't been an answer for that. There have been some other options, castor bean oil, stuff like that. But really, it doesn't perform. Brands have had to choose, do they want a sustainable story? Or do they want a performance story? Until Bloom, they couldn’t have both.“
When blended, a sole infused with Bloom’s algae foam can reduce EVA reliance by up to 30%, while retaining the performance characteristics of a 100% EVA product.
And then there’s the other, unlooked-for benefit of the Bloom process: cleaner water. “As we're harvesting the algae in, we separate it from the water, and then we return that filtered water to the source,” Jon explains. “We can calculate on a per shoe basis how many water bottles of filtered water we can put back into the environment, and how many birthday balloons full of carbon dioxide we can permanently remove from the atmosphere. As an example, for an insole and midsole for a typical men’s size nine sneaker, we can process the equivalent of 225 bottles of filtered water, and remove 21 birthday balloons full of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere.”
When blended, a sole infused with Bloom’s algae foam can reduce EVA reliance by up to 30%, while retaining the performance characteristics of a 100% EVA product.
But before we get too carried away, it’s worth noting that currently, Bloom’s foam can’t yet replace 100% of the EVA in a sneaker’s sole. “Our base resin is made up of 50% algae and 50% EVA to match the performance of a 100% EVA product,” Jon notes. “So technically there will always be some EVA present because the algae need to bond to something in the formula to be able to perform.” Although if Jon has his way, pretty soon a 100% algae, fully biodegradable foam sole with EVA-matching performance will be on the horizon. ”It will be completely marine biodegradable,” he says excitedly. “And that’s game-changing.”
Can you ever have enough socks? Probably. So let's assume you don't already own a pair of high rotation merino wool bike socks and tell you about our new accessory, the Extra Fine Merino Tech Sock.
Developed alongside the Gran Tourer gravel cycling shoe collection, the Tech is a merino-rich, mid-weight cycling sock designed for understated utility. Made with almost 60% fine Australian merino, it exudes comfort, warmth and luxurious softness at every turn. And thanks to merino's well-documented properties, it'll even take repeated wear without working up an odour, which could lead you to muse: why take two pairs of socks into the backcountry, when one will do?
Inspired by our many bikepacking adventures during the development of the Gran Tourer, we built the Tech in a leave-no-trace green camo, complementing both the natural environment and the colourways of our gravel bike shoe.
Available to order in three sensibly sized options, the Techs are in stock and ready to ride.