Cycling Cultures blog

I attended August Critical Mass, which was the first time I had been on a Critical Mass ride for a while. It was smaller than I expected, but lively. People gathered on the South Bank chatting and (in some cases) putting on zebra costumes; the ride left around 7:20pm and headed over Westminster Bridge to Parliament Square.

After circling Parliament Square the ride went up through Bloomsbury before heading down Oxford Street and around Hyde Park Corner to Buckingham Palace.

There were several short stops to rest and wave bikes in the air.

I generally find Critical Mass an enjoyable experience; one which can feel quite different depending on the group and what else is going on (for example, during the large anti-war protests, the ride took on an anti-war character which was however not supported by all riders). It’s rare to have the opportunity to feel so safe on the roads, and to be able to ride the city streets sociably, using the full space available rather than lanes or gaps. There is a carnival element – today, the group at the front of the ride broke into choruses of “YMCA”, with those who could ride without hands doing the actions! This was popular with pedestrians. Whooping and cheering also made the ride feel like a mobile party.

At the same time, there’s always an undertone of conflict, as there was last night. Pedestrians are usually curious and intrigued, and overt hostility generally comes from drivers rather than from those waiting for buses. Usually motor traffic is not held up for long, and drivers in Central London must be used to frequent delays for a range of reasons. However, the existence of Critical Mass acts as a reproach to the usual hegemony of the motor vehicle. It is an “improper” use of the streets as public space. Usually streets are of necessity heavily regulated to cope with – and generally to prioritise – large volumes of motor traffic; a recent addition to this being the traffic lights at Holborn which now count down to discourage pedestrians from crossing part way through the green phase.

It will be interesting to compare last night’s Critical Mass with the “official” annual traffic-free Skyride, which takes place on Sunday 5th September.

Just realised the abstract for the upcoming Bicycle Politics talk isn’t on here. Here it is. I will present the paper, but as with the others the written paper will be co-authored by both Katrina and I.

Rachel Aldred and Katrina Jungickel – ‘I didn’t feel like a proper Cyclist’: managing problematic and provisional cycling identities

This paper draws on data from the ESRC-funded Cycling Cultures project to examine and compare tensions and discontinuities within cycling identities in Cambridge and Hull, UK. Interview data suggests that while “cycling” is seen as a positive practice, the “cyclist” identity is much more troubled and harder to claim. People refer to “real cyclists” and “proper cyclists”, citing their own failures to live up to the image of a “good cyclist”. Some also seek to distance themselves from more explicitly “troublesome” cyclists, such as “lycra louts” or “exchange students”.
The paper links these tensions to dominant and limiting policy constructions around cycling, which apparently valorise cycling as a practice while still (a) stigmatising some cyclists and (b) failing to confront the dominant policy context, of mass motorisation and the concomitant pressure for space on the streets. It will explore how discourses around cycling identities differ in Cambridge and Hull, linking these differences to economic, social, and policy contexts in the two areas.

I have been (rather slowly) reading Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett’s deservedly popular book The Spirit Level. Very broadly speaking, Wilkinson and Pickett argue that societies with higher levels of inequality (like Britain) have higher levels of mistrust, fear, and jealousy; which lead to higher levels of various social and health problems. They use a variety of statistics, examples and anecdotes. Including this one: cafes in some European countries (not Britain, apparently!) leave blankets out for people sitting outside the cafe in cold weather, as the cafe owners do not worry that someone will run off with all the blankets. Britain is also one of the few European countries where citizens are constantly recorded on CCTV camera in the name of “security and safety purposes”.

So, I was thinking about cafes and blankets when I kept seeing bicycles in the Netherlands that appeared to be unlocked. Now they weren’t really, they were secured by a built-in lock around the rear wheel, like so -

- but I suspect that in UK cities, this kind of lock would be viewed as little better than no lock at all. I carry a heavy D-lock and a super-heavy chain everywhere, and I rarely stop at a shop without putting both on.

Now of course, there’s plenty of bike theft in the Netherlands – our friends in Arnhem pointed out a bike in their street that had lost its new saddle – but I wondered whether the UK’s bike-locking arms race, like our apparent tendency to appropriate cafe blankets, could be connected to our higher levels of inequality…

I then wondered if it would be worth making more of inequalities between users of different transport modes, as a specific form of inequality embodied and experienced in public space. This isn’t a dimension of inequality that Wilkinson and Pickett focus on, although they do talk about the popularity of SUVs as being linked to high levels of inequality and status anxiety. But how about inequalities between transportation modes as a dimension of inequality itself? How does it connect with other forms of inequality (with my “comparative social policy” hat on), and how does it affect the sociological variables discussed by Wilkinson and Pickett such as mistrust and fear?

Cycling and (in)equality is likely to be discussed at the Lancaster Bicycle Politics workshop where I will be presenting a co-authored paper. Aurora Trujillo will be presenting a paper at Bicycle Politics on “Cyclists as an Oppressed Group” – so more may well follow on this topic in due course…

Boris bikes – More than a Barclays? Yes, Yes, Yes.

I left Transport for London, earlier this summer and I’ve been thinking about the changing face of London’s cycling, and more theoretically and critically, about the ‘discourse of social, cultural and behavioural’ change. And so to London bike hire. For good or ill, forever associated with the brand Barclays, which has a long, and not always distinguished, history, as part of London’s rhyming slang. So in that vein, I shall continue this musing.

As evidenced by political rivals falling over themselves to claim credit, commentators worldwide and us showing forbearance and all wanting the scheme to be a success: it’s been good for Boris. So far so good. The next question is, how was it for me, and you, and you and you..?

My answer is mm… good. You see riding a Boris Bike feels profoundly different to riding my own bike – the Boris is heavier and offers a more relaxed riding position – I can turn my upper body and look behind – the expereince makes me feel a whole new person, a ‘valued’ member of a club from which I can come and go as and when I please, without all the old baggage and stereotyping. I get a quite different response from other people, especially taxi drivers – more patient, more friendly, more noticed, and appreciative even.

Of course, it could just be me, who at this stage in life is ripe for a transformative experience, after all its August, and there’s a holiday atmosphere which I didn’t notice when I was working. But it was only six or seven years ago that the Evening Standard used to run one feature a year, each August, on cycling/cyclists – those monsters that behaved badly and disturbed the peace of London’s parks.

Now there’ve been days when I’ve felt as if I’ve given the freedom of the city (after 8+ years as Head of the Cycling Centre of Excellence at TfL, and after going to 4 different sites before I could drop off the Boris bike at 23.30, I feel I’ve earned it) and yet there is something more, a kind of right of passage, a legitimacy for every consenting adult.

OK then, there’s at least two of us who are enjoying the experience, but will it last, will it be as easy and natural (spontaneous and reliable) a ‘pick me up’ as getting a lift from a friend. Has cycling broken out of the slot where everyone loves to hate us – because it’s now part of the public transport system instead of constant reminder of the me generation – who disregard others, and are scary, arrogant and smug?

The pods have already transformed the streetscape – at least in those up and coming areas like Bermondsey and north southwark that were just waiting for a new, iconic public transport system to align all the other positive messages and uses of the public realm – to show that we can, after all, share resources, and admit that we feel better for it.

But our relationship with Boris bike hire can not live on love alone – and I’m not just thinking about who’s going to pay for the mortgage, but whether the practical operational problems will be sorted out before the winter gloom and old habits kick back in.

A guest post by Rose Ades

Earlier this week, I was talking to Katrina about how devices shape experiences of cycling. While on cycling holidays this year we’ve each had with us bits of kit recording how far we’d been. It turned out we’ve each had the experience of getting a bit lost but not being quite so bothered because “it’ll still count towards the kilometres”! (And I was annoyed on my holiday when my device ran out of battery part way through the longest day ride – of course the device would have recorded all the little wiggles and diversions as well as allowing me to feel secure in the number eventually arrived at…)

The use of mobile devices has become a theme in some of the Hackney interviews in particular. Talking to an interviewee recently who has a cycle computer, she described how she has tailored her commute so it hits twenty kilometres, and how she likes having a record of all the mileage that she’s done on the bike. Does the use of these devices intercede between us and our journeys, meaning that we prioritise the device over the journey experience (as I’ve heard argued with respect to GPS for cars)? Or should it rather be seen as enabling new ways of planning and experiencing journeys?

Another interviewee has described how having a smart phone has reduced her fear of getting lost on new journeys, because it is immediately possible to check her location and get directions. The route chosen could be shaped by whether one is using a specialist cycle map (e.g. OpenCycleMap) or a general map which may be aimed more at drivers. Offline, I have got confused looking at an A-Z map of Hull (which I don’t know so well as Hackney) and failing to find the cycle paths that I have followed, as they are not marked and just appear as empty space. Similarly roads may appear “closed” but may actually be filtered for permeability.

The growing use of such mobile devices allows cyclists to map routes, to share information, and to provide advice to others online. Similarly, there are a number of videos shared online illustrating particular places or particular rides, such as the new London Cycle Superhighways. Some cycling websites, like Bristol Traffic, record and share pictures of illegally parked cars, providing a form of surveillance sometimes resisted by its targets. It will be interesting to look at how the use of mobile devices varies in our different case study areas.

We have been asked to publicise this online survey on cycle hire at rail stations.

Looking at the survey, I think it’s aimed at regular rail commuters – it’s easiest to answer the survey with respect to one “usual” journey. As a regular cycle commuter I use trains less often but for a variety of journeys. I found it hard to think about one “usual” journey – the last time I caught a train out of London was to get to the ferry at Harwich, the time before was to get to the WOMAD music festival, the time before that was to get to Skipton for a weekend’s walking, and the two or three times before that were to get to Hull for fieldwork…

Personally I do think cycle hire at rail stations would be useful, particularly as I often find cycle carriage on trains confusing (each train franchise has its own rules, which often also differ by route and by train type) or restricted. I would hope it could be properly integrated into train booking (as could bike carriage on trains), so that it would be easy to arrange and turning up at a station one could be sure that a hire bike would be available.

The blog and website has gone a bit quiet lately, because of Kat and I being on leave. I’ve spent part of my leave time cycling in the Netherlands with my partner James, and I thought that readers of the blog might be interested in some reflections on this. Caveat – it’s all a bit anecdotal (I am not an expert on cycling in the Netherlands, and with this being a holiday I wasn’t taking detailed notes!) and just represents initial thoughts. Also, I’m only going to include some thoughts as otherwise the post will be huge… so there may be more later and quite likely I will change my mind about some things.

This is a map of our route, although one small section from Leuk-Maastricht wrongly appears as a straight line as the GPS track didn’t record correctly. Some of the route’s in Belgium and a very little bit’s in Germany. It’s from Hoek van Holland down to Maastricht, and then back up again to visit friends in Arnhem.

Based on the cycle tour I felt that cycling in the Netherlands is more pleasant, overall, than cycling in the UK. Many things seem different and many seem more similar (car ownership is also high in the Netherlands, for example, and we saw a lot of cars parked and driving on main roads, although minor roads generally seemed very quiet).

Lots has been written about this on the blogosphere and elsewhere, so I just concentrate here on a few thoughts that maybe don’t appear so frequently…

(1) We saw quite a range of cycling-related infrastructure, mostly high quality in terms of surfaces, consistency, etc. There were off-road cycle paths both next to roads and away from roads, as well as quite a lot of on-road cycle lanes. Sometimes the cycle path was actually the pavement, although usually it wasn’t. Other times there was no cycle-specific infrastructure, although there might be home zones and traffic calming. We also saw permeability measures so there were a number of roads that were dead ends for motors but not for others.

In rural areas, we saw many roads where it looked like the number of motor traffic lanes had been reduced from two to one, by getting rid of the central line and painting two lines at the edge of the road. This seemed to help slow down motor traffic, as cars could not assume they could safely pass an oncoming motor vehicle without swerving.

The picture below shows a road where cycle symbols have been painted in the side lanes, but this was often not the case. You can just about see where the original middle line has been removed.

(2) Along the route there did seem to be some variations in the quality and type of infrastructure, and in the way drivers treated cyclists. In Rotterdam we found on-street covered cycle parking that I think was for residents living in flats – in other towns and cities we more rarely saw this.

(3) In the Netherlands, cycling two or more abreast is common. Where two people cycling next to each other pass another two people cycling next to each other, cars generally wait for them. This was extremely pleasant – although for a UK cyclist, it can be hard to cycle next to one’s companion without accidentally starting to race them! (By contrast see the UK highway code here for the position on cycling two or more abreast and much more).

(4) The cycle connection (knooppunt) network, which also extends into Belgium, generally seemed to make route planning a lot easier – it meant mostly we only relied upon one map for the whole journey. (I wouldn’t recommend that for a similar trip in the UK). Knooppunt sign boards appear every few kilometres, so if you were making a journey you hadn’t made before, following the signs would mean you’d only have to plan the first and last bits of the journey. With few exceptions (yes, we did get lost a few times) the routes are well signed.

(5) Some cyclists do wear helmets in the Netherlands… but generally only sporty cyclists, who seem sportier than their UK counterparts, often with full matching lycra, no baggage (just a water bottle and puncture kit), and helmets. Many times in rural areas we were overtaken by these cyclists but their speed was usually so fast that it was hard to get a picture!