Cycling Cultures blog

I went to the opening night of the London Bike Film Festival at the Barbican and was excited to see a range of creative and diverse bike-related activities and objects in the foyers such as hi-viz nail varnish by Wah Nails Salon, cycle-powered drinks machines and Gavin Turk’s fleet of 20 specially designed and painted bicycles.

Although these were interesting I particularly taken by:

Mitsuhiro Aita’s Cycle-house

The Pret A Rouler fashion show

Siobhán McAuley’s ‘ Faster, Faster’ – Bicycle, zoetrope, moving parts.

and Rimski’s Piano.

Interesting London Cycle Hire stats posted on The Guardian :

More than a Barclays? A month later

There always seems to be a dip after the euphoria, when the love at first sight begins to wear off, and you’re left with the day to day warts and all.

My dip happened last night, after a sustained blast of alienation – instead of the stimulation or solace, I usually find ‘doing something different’ at the Barbican – I walk along the Highwalk to Moorgate, and as its stopped raining, decide to stay out in the night air, and take a ride home.

I check the map for nearest station – street empty and so is the station, save for one bike – out of service. Check map again, head for Lothbury and Cheapside. Docking station. No bikes.

A man comes by riding a Boris heading north – shall I call/run after him, too late – it’s unlikely he’ll be dropping it off in the City. I tramp onto to the next – Queen street. Think I’m in luck, there are bikes – but as I get nearer realise these belong to Domino Pizza delivery – Not a Boris or a Barclay anywhere to be seen.

Do I really want to be spending my time trying to second guess where HE’s got to, traipsing around after Him?

Perhaps I just have to accept that these bikes are for others – the new generation – commuters with a settled, preferably early bird, travel patterns, those able to plan and sustain regular employment, a satisfactory relationship, techno-geeks, with Apps and an i-phone.

All I was looking for was spontaneity and freedom. And a bit of the action.

I leave the City behind, and walk over the Bridge to Southwark. It’s my patch and anyway its always a joy to view the city at night, from long derided, South London. I nip down off the Bridge to the medieval street below – and find a bike station with a good service, near the Globe.

Adjust the seat, bag in strap, and ride high. I set off delighted, I felt like a thief who’d struck lucky – for that moment, I’d go it right, I was invincible, a citizen once again.

And how is it for you?

Rose Ades

There is a terrific overview of the Bike Politics Conference on Dave Horton’s cycling blog – Thinking about cycling . The event was hosted by the Centre for Mobilities Research at Lancaster University.

I am reading Roger Deakin’s delightful Waterlog: A Swimmer’s Journey Through Britain and yesterday I found this:

Swimming is often enhanced by company, and sometimes by solitude. The same individual may swim for different reasons on different days. I certainly do. The joys of swimming are sometimes those of silence and solitude, sometimes of communion with nature, and sometimes the more friends who join you, the merrier. As with any mildly dangerous sport, there is safety in numbers when you swim in company, as when you climb or walk in the mountains. But there is also strength in numbers if your right to bathe in this or that particular mudhole is at all questioned.

Outdoor swimmers, especially in the wild, have always been outsiders with a shared vulnerability to the rigours of the elements and seasons, and to whoever seeks officiously to prevent them from risking their necks, or disturbing the trout.

(Except for the trout) does this remind you of any other type of sport?
Deakin recognises this too.
He goes on…

Swimming without a roof over your head is now a mildly subversive activity, like having an allotment, insisting on your right to walk a footpath, or riding a bicycle. It certainly appeals to free spirits, which is why the talk is invariably so good in those little spontaneous bankside, beach or poolside parliaments that spring up wherever two or three swimmers are gathered, as though the water’s fluency were contagious. (2000:115-116)

Deakin’s romantic and poetic account of swimming in the UK got me thinking about a cycling encounter I had on Saturday.

I was cycling from Herne Hill to central London when I got chatting with a man on an impressive cargo bike. I admit I am easily impressed by cargo bike but this was of a scale and elegance not normally sighted in the city. Frequent red lights provided excuses to talk and he told me of it’s structure, steering and load capacity – it was usually used to ransport 50kg but was capable of 100kg! These companionable bursts of conversation continued from South London to Covent Garden. Stuck once more in a snarl of traffic, he asked if I wanted to try it. I said yes. We swapped bikes and I set off to cycle a very busy street while he held my road bike on the footpath. I was nervous. Not only that this was a very expensive machine, but I was in road cleats on flat pedals and the street was filled with tourists, cabs doing 360s and many many cyclists, including pedicabs. At first it wobbled a lot. It was disconcerting not to see the front wheel and have the steering column turn even though the big cargo box in front remained straight ahead. And the seat was too high. I returned and he adjusted the seat. I tried again, this time down hill and something clicked. I cycled on, turned around and came back. It felt incredibly smooth and responsive. And the potential of it was exciting. We chatted again, introduced ourselves, swapped bikes and cycled away.

This spontaneous encounter with a cycling stranger made London feel like a very friendly place. It engendered an extraordinary level of trust in a city where cyclists we are constantly reminded about theft and security, of accidents and safety, of cycling defensively and being aware of traffic. Yet, here we simply connected over a lovely bike. Our shared interest in cycling made talk easy and it made my day.

A recent news article about a group of cyclists being asked to leave a pub because they apparently smelt is generating a large response. Here are just some of the articles. The comments make interesting reading:

- The Daily Echo: Cyclists ‘too smelly’ for Lamb Inn in Nomansland

- BBC News: ‘Smelly’ cyclists asked to leave New Forest pub

- London Wired: ‘Smelly’ cyclists asked to leave New Forest pub

- CTC Forum: Smelly cyclists ejected from pub

– Bike Radar: Smelly cyclists barred from pub

– Cycle Chat: “Smelly” cyclists kicked out of pub

- Road CC: Smelly cyclists barred from pub

- Single Track: Ok, who was it? “Smelly cyclists asked to leave pub”