Passo dello Stelvio: Montagnes du monde #5 I’m at the pass now and this place is ugly. A certain photographer once said that. He lives in the mountains, he works (mostly) in the mountains and he is a mountain biker, originally. So he knows mountains. And he has a point. Up to a point. There is a part of Passo dello Stelvio that is full of powerlines and their supporting metal structures. It is not the Sound of Music but sometimes just the sound of super bikes and super cars. It is not necessarily what the internet searches will show you. Ask any cyclist, professional or amateur, and they may well tell you the same thing. It is an ugly climb. At least in the sense of the effort required. Being Europe’s third highest col, measuring 22kms in length and averaging 7.1% in gradient, that really comes as no surprise. However, humans have been passing through here since the bronze age and they keep returning year after year. Mostly because of the switchbacks, but also because of the stories. Since cycling became a worldwide phenomenon, the Stevlio has established its place in the sport’s history. It is the original and highest Cima Coppi (the award given to the climb with the highest elevation in Italy's grand tour) in Giro history. From Bormio it really is a mixed bag of climbing motions; the lower slopes are fairly mellow, just meandering through the mid-height trees and bushes until you reach the series of tunnels, even the countdown through the 35 switchbacks is relatively relaxed. As you emerge from the tunnels you hit the main section of switchbacks, the prettiest bit of the the Bormio side of the climb, as you ascend up through the gorge to the hydroelectric station and its perfect nest of hairpins. Beneath what may or may not be an 'ugly' summit, there is brilliant, brilliant beauty. After the switchbacks you climb up through a valley, alongside a stream, pretty but open and therefore fairly unforgiving in the sun. As you crest out of the valley you turn sharp right at the old customs station, left takes you the 200m to the Swiss border, and you start attacking the high plateau. This is the bit that is 'ugly' - open rock and the bends in the road aren’t really tight enough to be fun, they just feel modern and a little dull. The plateau is bewreathed with power lines and the giant, steel skeletons that hold them aloft - this is no remote mountaintop. You have to share the summit with those who arrived by engine power. Those other visitors may not have the endorphin rush or the appreciation of the cycling stories that have been written here. Meteorology has been a central player in the script, almost every time. The snow was only cleared the day before the first passage when Fausto Coppi wrote himself and the mountain permanently into Giro history. The image of Il Campionissimo cutting solo through the snow walls during the 1953 Giro will stand forever. And that first passage over the mountain is immortalized in the Cima Coppi award. Being the highest point ever crossed by the Giro, brings its own complications. The Stelvio has a history of alterations and cancellations due to bad weather, and this is borne out by the fact that it has actually only featured 12 times since its introduction in 1953. At this elevation the window of opportunity opens sometime in late-May or early-June and shuts again sometime in September or October. It’s what heightens the anticipation and enjoyment when the ploughs scrape the white away and reveal the dark smooth bitumen. The Stelvio is also not only a climb; it’s a precursor to a descent that’s as hard as the way up and where races can be won and lost. Bernard Hinault and Jean-René Bernaudeau decided to put victory in front of personal safety through the single track tunnels on the Bormio side to take hold of the maglia rosa. And no less than four years ago the descent and the weather were still playing havic when that now infamous communication from race radio sought to control but not neutralise the race downwards. Three riders, including title contender Nairo Quintana, swooped down the Trafoi switchbacks blissfully unaware of the pantomime on the summit. Many of the peloton, believing the race had in fact been neutralised, stopped to wrap themselves in as many outer layers as possible. Whether you would want to stop at the summit or not is a question of taste. The top of the pass is flanked by functional-looking hotels, kiosks and fastfood restaurants selling wurst. But look up and you will see the The Refugio Garibaldi. Built in the 60s beside the ruins of the Swiss hotel that was destroyed during World War One, it is a celebration of mountain culture. And this is why everyone, from motorcyclist to sports car enthusiast, even to mountain biking photographers comes here. Yes, the col itself might not be the prettiest, but that is to forget the journey through the beauty below. Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Photography : Matt Wragg

Beach to Bonette Transhumance is the seasonal movement of people and their animals between low and high ground. In the mountains, part one is the ascension to abundant mountain pastures in the summer, part two is the descent to the valleys for winter shelter. In Saint-Étienne-de-Tinée, at the southern foot of the Col de la Bonette, there is an annual festival to celebrate the process. The cyclists of the Provence-Alpes-Côte-d’Azur region are no different from the shepherds and their herds. As soon as the déneigement team has finished its annual battle with the snow, riders flock to the Bonette. It’s an annual habit for Café du Cycliste, although this year we were a bit late to the party. Normally it’s a rushed drive up to the base at Saint-Étienne-de-Tinee to get to the col whilst the snow banks are still high and passing traffic low (not that this climb is ever as busy as its more famous counterparts). Having missed the opening week due to Ventoux gravel adventures, why not slow it down and ride up for sunset? From the beach to the Bonette has a nice ring to it. And statistics to match – from zero metres above sea level to 2,802m in 120kms. Like any serious ride, it is best broken down into the parts that make the whole. INTRO: WE ARE LIKE ROCKS Nice does not have fine white sandy beaches. It has galets, those smooth oval pebbles that are formed in the rush and tumble of the rivers that flow from the mountain tops of the Alpes-Maritimes. Riding in the opposite direction – up, ever up – shapes and moulds us cyclists, just as the rivers shape the stones. We rode to the Promenade, put some galets in our pockets, clipped in and rode north. PART ONE: A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT First the wide open plains of the Var, from the estuary at the Med, to the confluence with first the Vesubie, and then the Tinée. Locally the valley is known for its two-directional wind. Headwind in the morning before the land mass heats up, tailwind in the afternoon. Luckily we planned to hit the summit at sunset, so it was tailwind to the bridge. PART TWO: IN BETWEEN ROCKS & A HARD PLACE Plan-du-Var is like a gateway hamlet between the open plains and the valley gorges. Almost immediately the road is clinging to the high rock face while the river rages below. It’s easy to miss the tiny road to the Tinée valley on the right, which like the water is squeezed between the cliffs of the Gorges de la Mescla. The road and the river criss-cross each other and we discover a “Parcours de pêche a la mouche”. Fly fishing in the belly of the mountains, a scene of tranquility soundtracked by the noise of the rapids. Apparently there’s a “no kill” policy. Which is a bit like the riding pace. With a 24km climb at the top of the valley, it’s a case of keeping the powder dry. PART THREE: RED ROCKS & BUNKERS After the junction that leads up to Rimplas with its tennis-court-equipped concrete bunker, the landscape changes dramatically. Out of the deep grey gorge and into the higher and more open one that is a battle between the almost luminous green horse chestnut trees and red shale rock. We’ve been part of Bunker Research before so are fully aware of not only the road side forts but also those perched above that stare down on us. This road was originally a matter of national importance for its founder, Napoleon III, and later one of national security during WW2. It flattens out and snakes its way north with an almost constant faux-plat manner. PART FOUR: HALF-TIME SAVIOUR SAINT Cyclists are, as we all know, saved by patisseries. Being located almost exactly halfway up the valley, the boulangerie in Saint-Saveur-de-Tinée is regarded as an essential fuelling point (even if you are in the car). The tropézienne is trop bon. Rivers from the side valleys here powered the old mill, in a village which was once more commercial than touristic. On the northern outskirts the Col de la Couillole climbs out of the valley towards Roubion. It’s easy to forget in this sleepy town that the Tour used to pass through here and the Couillole was a contributing factor to The Canibal’s grand defaillance in 1975. PART FIVE: TO THE BASE There are many great climbs out of the Tinée valley. Always, on the way to the Bonette, the arrival at Isola tells you the end of the valley is near. Known more for the ski station 2,000m old-town Isola is the starting point for the Col de la Lombarde. It's a beauty of a climb in itself and scene of ‘What About Joe’ during the 2016 Giro. But our pilgrimage is to ‘Europe’s Highest Road’ so it is up and over the final valley ‘climb’. On the summit of the hill before the town, nature is putting on a light show as if to suggest we have arrived in cycling heaven. PART SIX: ON THE SLOPES, ON THE ROPES. There is no time to stop in Saint-Étienne. Sunset may be at 2100h on the Promenade, but the sun dips below the sea’s horizon first and that is a long way for the light to travel to reach the Cime at the top. The treat for us comes above the hamlet of Bouseyias, past the half-way point on the climb. The world is divided in two parts; light to the east and shadow to the left. Like the gorge below, the green grass that leads the whole way up to Camp des Fourches, is iridescent. We may have been behind the other riders, but we are ahead of the shepherds and their sheep and are surrounded by the reason they keep coming back. We enter the familiar last section of dark grey rocks, dappled with light and the last remnants of snow. The Col is open, but the Cime has been closed off, amusingly, by a barricade of snow. We demount and follow the last rays and, distracted by the view, the 15% slopes are less painful than expected. OUTRO: STONED AT ALTITUDE It’s probably the effect of the altitude. We almost forget the galets in our pockets. Pulling out the pebbles and placing them on the roadside does exactly what it was intended to – immediately, standing on the lunar landscape with the sun setting behind the peaks, the contrast to the busy beach at the start of the day is almost too much to comprehend. RIDERS' NOTES Komoot Route - click here Footnotes: Photography : Matt Wragg

Ça peak Mont Ventoux is a double-edged sword because, it's Mont Ventoux. Sure, Izoard's La Casse Dessert might remind you of the upper slopes of the Giant of Provence and the forests of Turini might have similar timber. But Ventoux is everything including unique. The grand forest wrapped around the lower slopes. Those roadside white limestone rocks. That red and white mast. Such a perfect surface leading to a slightly surreal summit. That summit is not Col de Ventoux. It is not a gateway between two valleys. You can go round rather than over the mountain to link its base towns. It is, therefore, France’s single biggest, 1911m high example of climbing for climbing’s sake. And it is a giant light for cycling flies. Each of the base towns - Malaucène, Bédoin and Sault - are completely full of bike riders, bike rentals and bike shops. A velocipede mecca. Compared to the isolation and serenity of the roads of the Niçois arrière-pays it is, quite frankly, a shock to the system. Cyclists...everywhere. Motorcyclists....everywhere. Sportscars...everywhere. Camping cars.... every-bloody-where. However, there is always a way to escape the madding crowds. In this case, it's gravel. There is a quatrième montée listed by the Club des Cingles du Ventoux. But we planned a different ride, starting from Bédoin, up and over to Malaucène, riding the gravel immediately and almost the whole way to the top, then descending on the smooth stuff. The French national mapping service is called IGN, short for 'l'Institut national de l’information géographique et forestière'. The forestière is a recent but notable addition. Les routes forestières are a national infrastructure that rely on public funding and access to sometimes private land. On Ventoux, where foresting activities have been carried out since the 13th century, these were arguably once more important than their smoother counterparts. If you are riding by gravel bike you find them delineated as white lines with a black-dotted outline. Ranked below the route nationales and routes departementale, the chemins departementale, these are these pistes. A piste can mean a multitude of by-way sins. A path, a trail, a single-track, a double-track, a runway, a dance floor if you really want..... In theory those marked on IGN maps should be all passable by gravel bike. In theory. It’s that bridge of the unknown between what’s on paper and what’s on the ground that makes reading maps a more exciting experience than it sounds. Un-paved means no guarantees. Taking the Piste des Graviers blancs it becomes evident that the spring rain water has churned everything up, making channels filled with rocks that are definitely not good for gravity-defying progress. The lower slopes are the worst. After the first series of steep and rough switchbacks, a sight of rough ashphalt. Mylène is so happy she demounts and kisses the ground. Then she picks a handful of thyme from the side of the road. The nasal effect is stronger than a salbutamol inhaler. Which is a good thing as the ashphalt lasts all of 100m. Apart from the laughter there is no sound. Because there is no-one. Not even hikers. This is why we choose gravel. As elevation is gained, the piste traverses the mountain for longer and gets into the deeper forest with tall cedar and fir trees. Long straights offer sunlight and shadow in equal measure. When the mistral isn’t blowing, the famous Ventoux heat makes us appreciate the Riviera sea breeze all the more. Eventually we arrive at a grand carrefour of pistes, which raises the question of how many other ways there are to climb the mountain by gravel? After this the road smoothes out and speed increases. As does the cloud. The mountain drama is unfolding before us. With all the distractions, the end of the piste arrives quicker than expected. And it’s like joining a motorway. Riders passing in both directions in non-stop trains of pained faces looking up and eyeballs-out looking down. One cyclist is resting on the armco after falling in the corner where the gravel meets the tarmac. The gravel, that started in Bédoin has curved its way around the mountain so we are now climbing the last four kilometres of the Malaucène side. There are mostly dedicated roadies but they are joined by almost every other kind of two-wheeled adventurers – rigid MTBs, tourers, recumbants. And there is an atmosphere in the last kilometre to the summit. The resident photographer on the final hairpin left shouts encouragement while snapping snaps that he hopes will make him a few euros. It is, though, a nice recognition of each and every rider’s effort to reach the top. For those on gravel bikes, it’s almost an unwritten rule for the summit; the ride does not stop where the road stops. Andrea spots a single-track snaking its way towards the most famous of masts. The sight of him fighting the gradient and loose rocks against the background of the antenna as the clouds swirl around the peak is stunning. Summiting skills polished, it's time to enjoy 21kms of curved and perfectly paved descent. But the air is thick with flying objects. Mouths shut, glasses on, stops are minimized. It’s a reminder that this is nature first, playground second.   RIDERS' NOTES Footnotes: Photography : Matt Wragg Mont Ventoux, Mont Ventoux, France

The Tumble : Montagnes du monde #4 South Wales may offer up a completely different parcours to Paris-Roubaix but both locations, which on paper may seem like unlikely cycling hotspots, share a common history in the development of the sport in their surroundings. That history was born underground, by deserted mines that helped spark the Industrial Revolution. And whereas the Hell of the North has the cobbles of the Arenberg, the Brecon Beacons have the slopes of the Iron Mountain, aka, The Tumble. It’s one of southern Britain’s most iconic climbs and like Roubaix, its environs offer up some gritty riding. It’s considered as the gateway to the South Wales Valleys, where towns and villages appeared as industrialists discovered the reserves of iron and coal under the green and undulating landscapes. At 4.7km in length, with an average gradient of 8.2% there’s no surprise that it’s a favourite amongst local riders, and featured as a summit finish in the 2014 Tour of Britain. And riders who know the history of The Tumble will ride it from the Govilon side to go up and over into the heartlands of rural Wales. The gradient is kind to begin with, becoming steeper after 800m as you ride through the woodland. Hidden under tree cover, the initial slopes of the climb are relentless. A cattle-grid halfway up signals the start of the moor-land, which offers a more forgiving gradient, but often exposes you to a punishing wind. As the trees disappear, and road flattens off, the view will open up to your right hand side. On a clear day, it's picturesque, with only rolling hills and green farmland to be seen. The road undulates towards the summit, descending slightly before kicking up again for the finale at Keeper’s Pond. Make friends with the sheep as you cover up for the descent towards Blaenavon, the UNESCO World Heritage site that is a living memoire of a mining town. The huge Ironworks and the Big Pit, the canals and the railways and the terraced houses where workers recovered from their subterranean endeavours all evidence what is considered as one of the most important elements of the Industrial Revolution in the United Kingdom. And, as cycling history shows, these places and that time also produced hard men to whom cycling was a welcome escape and, for some, a chance to make a new and better life. It is impossible to read about Welsh cycling without crossing Arthur Linton’s story. It is a tale of outstanding talent and success followed by tragedy. With his salary from working down the mines he bought a penny farthing before progressing to more familiar shaped ‘safety bicycle’. By 1890 he was winning races and his rise to stardom culminated in breaking the world 100 mile record at Herne Hill Velodrome, before the move to France. He became a successful track rider, winning in the famous Velodrome d’Hiver in central Paris, and that form was quite naturally transferred to the road. But therein lay the problem. In 1896 Linton returned to mining country, this time by finishing fourth in the first edition of the Paris-Roubaix. It was then considered as the little sister to the biggest one-day race on the calendar, the Bordeaux-Paris. During the race, mechanical failure led to a crash, which led to a bike change, which led to a wrong turn, which led to another crash, which led to a desperate chase to the finish line. After much furore about Linton’s deviation from the parcours and pre-event route changes that weren’t communicated to riders, Linton was eventually awarded the joint win with Gaston Rivière. But the damage had been done. He was entered into more races in London and Paris and could not finish due to ill health. Linton returned to Aberaman in South Wales only to eventually die from an official diagnosis of typhoid fever. The unofficial diagnosis was a combination of physical exhaustion and alleged doping. It’s a rise and fall legend that serves as a reminder that it is a true privilege to be able to ride beautiful climbs such as The Tumble at leisure. So when climbing those first steep slopes, remember Arthur Linton, smile and remember to claim your badge afterwards. Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Photography : Luke Davies

Adventure commute noun: commute; plural noun: commutes. 1. A regular journey of some distance to and from one's place of work."the daily commute" No app in its right mind would suggest this route, but perhaps that’s the aim. Twenty kilometres there. Twenty kilometres back. Most days the aim is to arrive quickly and efficiently. Carve a trace amongst the buses and taxis until you join the daily peloton for the usual single-focus ride: across the bridge, along Embankment and back amongst the buses and taxis to the finish. Why not make the regular irregular? Deviate from the beaten path to find a more beat-up track that makes your ride, well, more upbeat. Head to Richmond Park on any morning and you’ll find plenty of cyclists. Smashing out laps or simply passing through, on bikes ranging from worn out workhorses to aero TT stallions, punching holes through the morning air. But it’s a big green space amongst the grey, and a chance to get amongst the foliage in the morning mist. Early in the morning the single tracks around the park are deserted. It’s a chance to play; to ride amongst the deep grass; an opportunity to ride solo at a time when most are either sleeping or on someone else’s wheel. And the gravel demands your focus on one thing and one thing only: riding. Exit the park, and instead of the bus lane, get up close to the river. In the shade of the trees, interspersed with sudden shafts of light breaking through the undergrowth, you feel the coolness of the early morning. The river to your left, the boat houses to your right. Instead of white vans and bin lorries to accompany you, you have dog walkers and runners. The sight of rowers is somehow relaxing, seeing them effortlessly cut through the water, nothing in their way. On this ride, everything is going against the flow, in every possible way. Then it’s time for some bridge roulette. The next one will do. Head north of the river, and see where you end up. The further you get, the mind starts to focus. A flurry of cars and traffic lights greet you as you hit the main road. Then Hyde Park gate appears, and there is calm again. Busier than Richmond earlier, the paths are littered with riders who have become fatigued with the battle on the bitumen. Getting closer to the City and some things are unavoidable. As you exit the park past Marble Arch, you can start to feel the pressure mounting. A sense that time is running out, queues and traffic beginning to build. Time to head east. At this point imagination helps to maintain the illusion – to maintain the adventure. Ducking down side streets, riding cobbles, climbing walls. Scouring the urban forest for all it has to offer…past the Horse Hospital and onto the Panther House. Then everything is clear. Buildings look familiar, and it becomes apparent that these roads have been ridden before. Work is just around the corner. Time for one final stop, to reflect on the journey. As you cross the square, the suits are beginning to arrive, stale from the underground, gripping their daytime drug coffee cups. A quick glance at the bike where white dust and grit clings to the down tube; remnants and reminders of the ride in. An extended commute. An adventure commute. One that makes the post-ride coffee taste better and adds endorphin highs to the day ahead.

Bear Mountain: Montagnes du monde #3 The Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, Brooklyn Bridge and Central Park are all famous landmarks synonymous with New York City. However, ask any local cyclists for their pick and they will most probably mention Bear Mountain. Although, it is not technically within the city limits, it is perhaps the best known peak that’s accessible to all New York City cyclists. Located approximately 50 miles north of the city amongst the highlands of the Hudson River valley, it is within reach when a big day is on the schedule. During the American Revolutionary War, the Hudson River valley was considered a strategically critical area. Gaining control of the river meant controlling supplies, men, and materials between the New England states and those further south. Remnants of the battles fought, such as the famous Battle of Forts Clinton and Montgomery, can still be seen scattered within the bounds of Bear Mountain State Park. Nowadays, the park is mostly frequented by folks trying to escape the city – cyclists included. There are a few ways to reach Bear Mountain. One way, which many locals consider the scenic route, is entering the park through the north side by way of Seven Lakes Drive. As the name implies, this route will take you through seven beautiful lakes within Harriman State Park on roads mostly devoid of car traffic. During summer days, a dip in one of the lakes is a must! The views, however, do come with some added miles and climbs before reaching Bear Mountain. The most direct route – and the one that counts on Strava – is entering the park through the south entrance by the 9 West Highway or 9W as the locals call it. At its peak, Bear Mountian is just shy of 1,300ft in elevation on a 4.5 mile stretch of beautiful paved road - a tiny mole hill compared to some of the world’s most famous climbs. However, what it lacks in grandeur makes up for having some of the best views of the Hudson highlands. From the south entrance, the first mile to the roundabout gets quite steep compared to the rest of the climb – kicking up to about 9%. Follow the roundabout north to Seven Lakes Drive and the road eases down to about 5-6%. After 2.5 miles take the right to Perkins Memorial Drive – named after the man who helped create the state park. During most of the winter, this road is closed off to car traffic – perfect for those hunting KOMs - but be wary of hikers as the Appalachian Trail crosses through Bear Mountain. Once on Perkins Memorial Drive the climb steepens to about 10% as the road opens up revealing the view of the Hudson Valley. The final narrow section then returns to a steady 5-6%, waiting to be attacked if you've saved enough for one final effort. Once you’ve reached Perkins Memorial Tower, you know you’ve made it to the top. From there, you are rewarded with an incredible view. In fact, you can see four states from the top of Bear Mountain – New York (obviously), New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut. And on a clear day you are able to see the skyline of Manhattan and see how far you’ve come! And the distance is what makes Bear Mountain a challenging climb – there’s anywhere from 50-60 miles to get to the start of the climb. It doesn't take a mathematician to know that the out on back from the city will make it a 100 mile day. Perhaps, the best thing to do is to ride over to the other side of the Hudson and take the train back to the city from Peekskill. But make sure to grab a cold one to enjoy on the train back home. Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Photography & Text : Donalrey Nieva

Tai Mo Shan: Montagnes du monde #2 While the bipolar island temperatures and dense crowds make Hong Kong an unlikely candidate for riding, the cycling culture in the city has been rapidly developing over the past few years. In fact, it has the one of the fastest growing cycling industries on the globe. And with the second largest concentration of billionaires and some of the best dim sum in the world, riding in Hong Kong means possibly rubbing shoulders with society's elite but definitely eating like a king. The expansion of Hong Kong’s territories also means that there are many more routes to explore, and in a city so thick with intensity, the need to get out of town is as essential as oxygen. Climbing is one of the reasons why Hong Kong cycling is so famous. Victoria Peak is one of the most famous and is situated right in the center of Hong Kong Island. The Fei Go Shan climb boasts anywhere from 15% to 20% gradients. And Lantau Peak in Lantau island is topped with massive Buddha statue on the top of the peak. But the most iconic and highest mountain in Hong Kong has to be Tai Mo Shan. Once famous for a type of green tea called “cloud tea”, Tai Mo Shan is also known as the “Cloud Mountain” because of the almost permanent meteorological dressing on top. Riders say that when the conditions are right, you can even feel as if you are part of the sky. Before you reach the actual Tai Mo Shan segment, you will be warming up on a section called “route twisk” which starts at the Tseun Wan station. It is about 6km long and the grade is rather mellow - perfect preparation for your lungs and legs before the climb gets punchy on the actual Tai Mo Shan climb. Coming out of the “route twisk” you will pass the sign that says “Tai Mo Shan Country Park.” This is the indication that you have just entered into the main segment of the climb - a 2.5km sinuous route up the mountain at a steady 9% average grade, all the way to the peak. First timers tend to get fooled by the relatively easy grade at the foot of the mountain, but it gets tougher and tougher until you hit the three switch-backs before you arrive at the peak. Once into the switchback section, it is time to pump out everything you have to end the climb with a bang. With the climb done, all that's left a descent to Choi Lung for their famous dim sum. Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Photography & Text : Far Ride Magazine

What is long? From the underground, past the tipping point and into popular culture. The Transcontinental, the French Divide, the TransAm Race - ultra distance cycling is now in the mainstream. It has a long (yes, we know....) deep and, if we may so, quite french history. But like other extreme sports, have a conversation with an outsider and the question remains the same - a big fat 'why'? The Three Amigos - Matthieu, Elisabeth and Gregory - from Due North, the Nice to London shop to shop adventure, attempt to explain the what, the why, the give and the take of long. WHAT IS LONG? MATTHIEU Our discipline, our type of riding, is inspired by the Audax tradition, the sporting randonnées, events created by the Brevets de Randonneurs Mondiaux (founders of Paris-Brest-Paris). The range of distance is very subjective, but I think we can start to classify it as 'long' when we spend a full day on the road. Then it becomes natural to extend the days, to ride into the night. It always progresses - from a few days to several weeks and so the adventures grow. ELISABETHIt is a way of riding that has existed since the beginning of cycling and which combines, in my opinion, an aspect of endurance and travel. The tradition of long-distance riding has never been lost, and has continued in France with events like Paris-Brest-Paris, Les Diagonales, Les Flèches (arrows), etc. It seems to me that we can start talking about long distance beyond 200kms per day, including riding into the night. Long distance changes the notion of performance: we do not speak of average speed or moving time, but of a global elapsed time to go from point A to point B. The management of stops is more important than the speed on the bike. GREGORYLong distance is the school of humility and patience. It is something that requires a lot of caution because nothing happens as expected and it requires an ability to get out of your comfort zone, no matter how big or small that might be. WHY LONG?M: To fill two aspects of my personality. On the one hand, I have a contemplative and curious nature, and on the other I admit to having quite a bit of nervous energy and I find trouble channeling myself naturally. The hypnotic, binary practice of cycling has managed to regulate my energy, to find its rhythm. It allows me to balance this unnecessary energy expenditure with my natural idleness by giving it meaning, becoming the driving force (in the literal sense of the term) of my curiosity. It allows me to advance, to discover new places, to climb new passes, to enjoy riding a well-tuned machine but also to bring back graphic content of these adventures that will become the main focus of my daily work between rides. E: I do long distance because it corresponds well to my physiology and my psychology: I am tough and persistent and I do not really suffer from the effort over time. I discovered that I am more comfortable on long outings than on brief and intense efforts. I like to know where my limits are, and I enjoy real life challenges. Finally, I keep a wonder in tact for the concept of the distance that can be ridden on a small 10kg pile of scrap using only the force of your legs. I do not have a car, I ride far by bike and it's a form of reaction to certain behaviours of some of my contemporaries. Some people go to get bread by car - one tonne of scrap to lug a 70kg human! G: Because I'm looking for something, something that everyday can not bring me, a different routine, a fresh look at things. A shower takes on a whole new dimension when it's the first time in three days, a text message of encouragement from 1000kms away gives you wings even when you think about giving up and going home. It is these emotions that I seek and that long distance brings me. To lose oneself to better find oneself. WHAT DOES LONG TAKE?M: The mental aspect is different for each rider. It is fundamental to find balance in your head and, to a certain extent, a meaning to our wanderings. Or at least to make us believe in something or some purpose. Of course you need quality equipment adapted for long distance. A bike with a good balance between comfort and performance, a position that doesn't distract or cause pain, a functional luggage solution and clothing designed for the purpose. If pitfalls and glitches will always be part of the story, having equipment designed and proven for long hours in the saddle is a real benefit. And take a knife, a knife always serves you well. E:First you have to want to. There are many other forms of cycling, and long distance does not necessarily suit everyone. Then you need to train. You must acquire a habit of long hours in the saddle. It is essential to have found the right settings of the position on the bike to avoid injury. It is important to have tested all your equipment to avoid being stranded somewhere. Finally, you have to have the taste of the effort and a certain desire to surpass yourself, as well as a form of patience. It's important to get along with yourself and know when to stop. It is a discipline that makes you introspective and contemplative, it calms the nerves! G: Mental strength, lots of mental strength. So much is in the mind because no matter what the distance, the weather alters the emotions, which take on quite different dimensions and you can pass from laughter to tears in less than five minutes. It requires an ability to cheat with your brain and yourself make believe that everything is fine. WHAT DOES LONG GIVE? M: A feeling of being outside of time. In an unreal reality. All temporality evolves, distorts itself, after a few days the animal instinct begins to dominate our behaviour, the senses sharpen, the feelings too. A satisfaction. The retrospective to have travelled 'all that' without the help of anyone, to have pierced the life of a country like a silent arrow and to have chosen your playground. And, of course, stories of extraordinary friendships. E: Well, a hell of an endorphin shot! And the pleasure of a long trip, which unfolds like a film almost uninterrupted. The satisfaction of having gone far with simple mechanical means. And finally a break in everyday life, because the only concerns on the bike are of aesthetic order in front of the landscape, physical effort and logistics, in the very short term. We are in a sense constrained to immediacy and it feels good. G: Memories, good or bad, but unforgettable. Friendships too, sometimes unexpected and often strong and above all, a different perspective on the world because the expectations are lower when traveling with a bike and a sleeping bag. Footnotes: Photography by Manivelle.cc

Sa Calobra: Montagnes du monde #1 Palma-born engineer Antonio Parietti didn’t know it. Nor do the majority of the thousands of cyclists who visit the Balearic island of Mallorca each year. But they are kindred spirits : lovers of nature and purveyors of fine roads. We cyclists have Parietti to thank for one of the most finely-laid ribbons of tarmac in Europe: Sa Calibre Having completed his civil engineering degree in Madrid, Parietti returned to Palma and was almost immediately engaged in a new road project with one objective – to make some of the island’s wild beauty spots more accessible. The first of his feats was unveiled in 1925, opening the path to the Formentor lighthouse on the most northerly part of the island. A beauty of a road that snakes along the spine of the Cap de Formentor, it could be argued this was the practice run for the masterpiece to come. Because it is Sa Calobra that is the most revered road on the island, by both engineers and cyclists alike. Locals have many nicknames for the climb: 'La Cobra', 'The Knot', 'The Neck Tie' or simply just 'The Hole'. Sa Calobra is the small village located in the bay at the bottom and was previously only reachable by boat. Parietti’s road changed that. It was opened in 1932, a year before the Tour de France introduced bonus points for the mountain classification and made climbing one of the most important parts of the professional cycling. And so it is in Mallorca. Sa Calobra is where the Tramuntana mountain range, which dominates the north and west of Mallorca, meets the sea. Getting to Sa Calobra is therefore not easy, as first you must climb and then enjoy the swooping descent into the port hole. From Palma you should prepare yourself for a parcours with similar statistics to a grand tour stage, and additional peaks in the Coll de Soller and the Puig Major on the outward journey. Luckily the Serra da Traumuntana is distractingly beautiful and was recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site, rewarded for its well-maintained balance between human impact and preservation of nature’s bounty. Parietti followed the same philosophy. It’s been reported that he preferred to curve his roads to the mountain’s contours rather than tunnel through and change the natural landscape. Compliment not cut. That’s why the ribbon is so perfectly pretty and there are no less than 26 hairpins between the sea and the famous 270 degree neck tie bend before the top. The consistent gradient serves up a smooth climbing experience. Smooth does not mean easy though, and Sa Calobra is the toughest climb on the island, measuring 9.4kms in length with an average gradient of 7%. Like our own Col de la Madone, it’s the perfect testing ground with no junctions and steady slopes to help squeeze out the power. The KOM on Strava is officially held by Sergio Henao with a time of 24:54. Mere mortals are happy to go under the hour limit and a good time is somewhere in the 40-odd minute mark. It’s a contradiction to talk statistics and times given the objective of this road and the beauty of the surrounding mountains. It’s a destination climb, and out-and-back adventure and we would advise that you don’t get stuck staring at your stem. Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Photography : John Braymard

Week-end prolongé: Père & fils Le Week-End Prolongé (n) : Add an extra day (or two), breathing room to find riding space somewhere special. Or simply somewhere simple. Get up, kit on, ride out kind of trips. Cycling for the soul. Paul-Louis Clermont, 72, is busy changing the set-up on his borrowed bike in the Café's atélier. He's trying to get back into road mode after adding a Scott e-MTB to his substantial bike collection which runs from old steel roadies, fully rigid MTBs, special edition carbon superbikes and custom gravel bikes. He’s helped by his son, and our co-founder, Rémi, who knows the set-up is as important to his father as the post-ride Strava analysis will be. Michel Icard, 61, arrives with his ever-present smile and twinkle in the eye and puts down his bag in front of the Café bar. Said bag still proudly wears the sticker bearing his race number from last year’s Gran Fondo World Championships, where, as a climber on a sprinter’s course, he was disappointed to finish only 14th. Florent, his son, arrives at the same time having just spent the morning helping skiers snap into their bindings up in Auron. Previously an up-and-coming future superstar, Flo now splits his time between the winter season in the snow and the summer season on the pedals. It’s his first real foray on the road in 2018, and he’s worried the old men will beat him up. This Week-End Prolongé had been staring everybody in the face for months. Literally. Resting on the Port every morning and evening are the ferries that bridge the channel between Nice and Corsica. It's an obvious thing to do from the Café - a roll-on, roll-off affair with no airport security and bike box lugging to pollute the experience. Corsica is important to the Icards. Michel, or Mich Mich as everyone in the niçois cycling world affectionately calls him, is married to a Corsican and him and Flo return to visit the family house buried in the southern mountains at least once a year. Flo tells us that during his years as an elite amateur with his sights on a professional contract, he didn’t train anywhere that hurt his legs like the Corsican roads did. ‘Jamais plat’ ('never flat') he says, verifying the island’s nickname of ‘The Mountain In The Sea’. Cap Corse is the obvious first pick from the ride base in Bastia. Ride the 100km lap of the peninsula anti-clockwise - catch the early sun rays on the east and ride into the sunset on the west. Paul-Louis questions the plan immediately, 'if we ride anti-clockwise that means we finish with the Col de Teghime?” He’s from Alsace in northern France but displays a knowledge of roads and mountains that suggests there is a Michelin map of every region imprinted on his brain. Paul-Louis has never competed in a race, never been in a club and he’ll join the Ventoux night ride before he’ll do a sportive. But he’s ridden all his life. For pleasure. For himself. And with his son. Rémi comes from the same mould. It has helped him see cycling in a different light, forming his own breakaway from the peloton. Cap Corse plunges you almost immediately into the remoteness that the island delivers. Endless sea views to the right, snow-capped mountains to your left, it is not a stereotypical flat branch out into the sea. Erbalunga is the first hint of picture postcard fishing village life that sustains a quiet part of a tranquil region. The Genoise Towers decorate the coast like army badges, worn by an island that has been fought over for centuries. Top tip – never ride the Cap de Corse off season without previously making a lunch reservation. Stunning tranquillity is one thing, hunger with 50kms remaining on the route card is another. Mich Mich expresses how one of the best experiences of ultra-endurance riding (one of the many many disciplines he partakes in) is to arrive in town, pass through a cloud of sumptuous cooking aromas and follow your nose to the plate. Despite his ‘sec’ appearance, Mich can eat as well as he climbs. He knows how to fuel the engine: little and often. Or maybe just often. Flo and Rémi could learn a lesson from him as they recount tales of bonking and being towed back home by their dads in the early days. After eventually finding the best charcuterie in the world in Centuri, the four-ball rolls on one of the most spectacular coastal roads known to cyclists. At points the road is a singletrack masquerading as a standard route nationale, the white line in the middle needing assistance from passing places to allow two-way traffic, if there was any. It clings to the edge of the sharp cliffs which dive into the ocean and disappears round rocky outcrops leaving nothing but dramatic sea and sky vistas behind. The group rides tight, enjoying the billiard table surface and the panorama and not much is said because not much needs to be said. Looking west the sun is the hourglass timer for the ride, its height above sea level used to determine the remaining saddle time. Nonza bay was the target. Sunset on the beach, legs in the ocean to be refreshed for day two. Paul-Louis, at 72, feels the cold more than anybody and opts out. Flo, ever the joker, opts to throw stones and splash Remi and Mich Mich as they try and enjoy the view. With a gran fondo in the tank, endorphin release is set to maximum. The only thing required is more food. In the restaurant the waiter is clearly trying to off-load the day’s delivery of côte de bœuf to the late clientele. It’s the best Corsican beef, “fait moi confiance” he repeats over and over, causing laughter and doubt in equal measure. Everyone orders pizza, but they do succumb to the sales pitch for the local wine. One day on the best coastal road in the world is followed by a mountainous 80kms loop inland, starting with the Col de Santo Stefano. The D62, like quite a few of the roads in Corsica, is marked on the Michelin map with the famous green line which denotes a scenic route. It starts in the olive groves on the lower slopes then breaks out into the gorge with a tunnel view right up towards the snowy peaks of Asco, where skiing still looks possible. But the trees are charred black from wildfires and further up the climb, peering over the cliff reveals a cemetery of unwanted cars that have been sent to their final resting place in dramatic Hollywood fashion. It’s a good excuse for a pause and a joke on the climb. It’s also a reminder that Corsica, for all its beauty, has an edge to it. First day lunch panic is replaced by second day lunch picnic. Baguettes in the back pocket and eating al fresco on a rock in the middle of nowhere. The flowers are springing but they are still over-shadowed by the empty bright yellow shotgun cartridges that pepper the grass. Flo’s grandad is a chasseur and, according to Icard junior, so is 90% of the male population of the island. The charcuterie has to come from somewhere. Through the perched villages of Pieve, Sorio and San Pietro-di-Tenda and a mis-en-scène of rural Corsican life. Down to Saint-Florent for coffee and front row seats for the post-lunch pétanque. A stout man arrives and immediately throws every boule with pin-point accuracy, much to Rémi's delight. The bowl shaped valley behind Saint-Florent that rises up to the ridgeline between Oletta and Patrimonio is like a displaced taste of Tuscany. It is perfect wine country. Patrimonio is the recognised area and the Leccia domaine is an ideal final pit-stop before the Col de Teghime and the boat home. Mich Mich takes a taste, even though you get the sense he’d rather keep riding. He understands this is a shared experience and part of this particular ride that adds to his encyclopedia of cycling experiences. Flo repeatedly asks if there is any charcuterie whilst Rémi is torn between knowing that there is limited space to carry wine back to Nice and that, once on the mainland, it may be ‘stored’ in his house. Paul-Louis? Well he is in his element. He collects wine almost as fervently as bikes and buys two cases; “it’s good but, more importantly, every time I drink it, I’ll remember this ride”. Wisdom for the long road. Flo tells a great story of a fall from glory. Having been riding in a day-long breakaway in the Tour de Savoie he had a grande defaillance on the final climb resulting in a loss of 15mins in the last 10kms. Like all racing engines, his is one of fine tolerances – it can be revved hard but if not oiled correctly it may explode. He goes ‘hypo’ on the climb up the Col de Teghime and gets dropped by everyone. They wait for him, then he sprints the summit. You can take the racer out of the racing but not the racing out of Flo. Dinner has no added ‘fait moi confiance’ as it’s a torn up chicken and baguette watching the ferry traffic on the port. Onto the boat for the return home and the father and sons split into their cabins that, on the slightly cheaper ferry, are bite size. After a weekend together, that might be too close for some, but the Clermonts and the Icards have no issue – tired bodies and comfortable silence based on the closest bond of them all. RIDERS' NOTES The Corsican Ferries run from right outside Café du Cycliste in Nice Port. There are two companies offering the service and the possibility to travel over-night. Day 1 - Cap Corse ROUTE Day 2 - Haute Corse Heights ROUTE Footnotes: Photography : Matt Wragg

Gravel to gravel, dust to mud Cycle to Tuscany for the Strade Bianche said the little voice in my head. The Italian Riviera in the springtime; the Cinque Terre and the Med always to the right. Pisa and pizza and then finishing between rows of cypresses on the infamous Tuscan white roads, watching the pros zip past in dust and sun. A gravel bike ride to a riding gravel race – the sort of concept the little voice in my head knows I cannot resist. It could have been a short shorts and shaved legs ride: what could possibly go wrong? February is the cruellest month, TS Eliot almost wrote, but actually February was fine. February 27th, February 28th and the sun shone, though it gave out little heat. The bike was loaded and the Wahoo programmed to take me along the coast and then into the hills. Camogli. I stopped here once before, I remember, when I was a student, travelling on the train with friends. That day we took the last room in town, overlooking the pebbly beach, and watched the setting sun burnish the walls of the room with gold. Then we swam in the cold sea, heads bobbing over the dark blue, faces disappearing and reappearing in the swell, lens flare in the last rays. In the evening the locals processed statues of Saint Fortunato in the streets, fried fish and made spectacular bonfires on the beach. This time, years later, seasons earlier, it is too cold to stay outside, and so I drink brandy and think with trepidation about the next day’s cold. Snow in piles in the shade, the sun setting and the Cinque Terre rising before me. The bike route across the first hills to Portofino becomes very climby, following timeworn tracks used by walkers and pack animals. Even now they are patrolled by tiny trucks. In Italy there is an industry still making diminutive vehicles for these tiny steep lanes between the olive trees. In some places I have to get off and carry my bike, but there are three-wheeled Apes here hardier than I. In the warmest corners there is the smell of wild garlic, sole reminder of spring, but elsewhere my tyres crunch through frost. In Portofino, Russian girls in yachting wear and furs pose for a camera, but as soon as the lens cap is on they dive into the cafe where I am having coffee. Out of town up in the hills the landscape drains of colour. There are tiny birds lying frozen dead on the road. On the north side of the hills the road is frigid monochrome and on the south it is white from salt stains and snow melt. A 10-kilometre descent calls for an emergency pizza. Finally stopped, after 150km, I wash my base layers – two, and two neck warmers – in the hotel sink and go to a restaurant, where I shock the waiter with how much food I eat. The next day is 1 March and though that is the calendar start of spring, it is also when the Beast from the East comes to visit. Outside the hotel there is snow on the ground and it is snowing, a wet, cold, cloying snow. By Pisa, 40km south I give up and try to catch a train. But there are no trains running into the hills of Tuscany. Lines closed. I have to get to the Strade Bianche. I have to interview a rider for a magazine, and besides my bed that night is in the team hotel, an expensive luxury to miss. I stand around in Pisa station for a while with crowds of tourists who want to go to Florence, not knowing what to do. And then you realise that you keep putting yourself in these situations and that there is only one way out. I get back on the bike. Hours of zero degrees, sleet and dirty snowmelt road spray. The headwind the icy breath of the Beast from the East. I stop at the next station, still no trains, and no taxis too. The kindness of strangers in a café and a tobaconnist where I stop to drink coffee and eat chocolate. No photos and nothing to report beyond the tip of my nose. Empty handlebar pack, all my clothes are on. Eventually, with 30km left, I find a cab that will take me to my warm shower and bed. I drip all over the inside as I warm up. The view from the hotel is white. Two days before the Strade Bianche and it’s not just the roads in Tuscany that are white – it’s everything. The teams trickle in through the hotel lobby doors in cold gusts of apprehension, sheltering from winter’s revenge outside. The next day I recce the course with the team, and the snow has mainly gone, but it is all mud rivers and slush piles instead. How many, tomorrow, will be truly up for it? Will the battle be won before the start? Riding down to Siena that evening, rows of cypresses stand guard in the gloom over the infamous strade bianche. The women’s race starts and ends in the rain, all embrocation and sounds of brakes in the wet. The men get wet and are strafed by stormclouds all day. But heroes rise out of this mud. Heroes like Anna van der Breggen, and Tiesj Benoot, Wout van Aert and Romain Bardet. And they would not be the heroes we need them to be if these races were easy. Why do we try to do things that are so hard, I ask myself. And then I realise that I keep putting myself in these situations and that there is only one way out.

Race to the rain Last Sunday on the Côte d'Azur there were only two types of riders on their bikes: Deliveroo couriers and professional racers. Monsoon conditions meant it was only those for whom the bike is le métier who pedalled. Such was the level of the precipitation, the rivers which flow into the Baie des Anges turned the water from azur blue to brown. And it was almost as if the city of Nice was collectively embarrassed by the weather, whilst ASO were surely considering a re-brand of 'The Race To The Sun'. However, money had been paid and the show had to go on. As a spectacle, the final stage of the Paris-Nice has evolved over the past few years, going from a straight contre-la-montre up the Grande Corniche, or King Kelly's Hill, to a short, sharp leg-breaking rollercoaster across the collines of l'arrière-pays. That may have upset the traditionalists, who loved to see the race of truth climb up out of the city via the balcony views above the coast to Col d'Eze, but others believe the final day of this one-week competition now provides some of the best racing you will see all season. Helped in recent years by a certain Alberto Contador and his tendancy to pop off the front when the road rises up in an attempt to overhaul the yellow jersey. At only 110km, last Sunday's stage was small fry to the professionals, but as any one who has ridden the hills behind Nice will testify, there is barely a flat piece of road. Nor a straight one for that matter, so an attacking rider can disappear quite quickly. And that's exactly what has happened over the past three years before the arrivée on La Prom. A mixture of GC contenders, local riders seeking glory and those with good early season form usually form echappeés and chasing groups. Watching the end of the stage in the City is to witness the consequences of a war of attrition that took place on the four climbs that preceded the double Eze loop. There is no such thing as a peloton when the race finally descends the Moyenne Corniche before climbing back to Eze for the final time. And eight days of racing is decided on that one loop up and over one of Europe's prettiest coastal villages. And the whole loop is important - remember Geraint Thomas's 54t chainring for the chase down from Eze to the Promenade - that's local knowledge for you. In 2016 the winning margin was 4 seconds, last year it was two seconds and this year... back to four, albeit this time the pursuant, Marc Soler, was successful. We watch as Simon Yates comes into view leading the chasing group, but rolls to the side, unable to pull any longer. In hindsight, it's almost as if he knew before going into that last corner - that modern battle was lost on this historical battle ground. Of course, if you are not paid to ride your bike, you can choose when to ride it. We promise the weather will improve (it already has). So come and ride the roads of The Race To The Sun, in the sun.

La Diagonale Brest to Menton - a cut across France, opening up a wound of bleu, blanc et rouge. Point to point has purpose. A start and a destination, leaving what's behind for another day, looking forward and working constantly on an objective. Gloomy north west to sunny south east, literally going from darkness to light. Diagonal is straight with a sideways slant. Eventually your head turns the same way. Instead of the vanishing point you see the fields, the flowers and the voyage. It is a concrete fact that an autoroute is the worst way to see a country. Side bankings, high speeds and paying for the privilege. Irony upon iron bridges then as an Audax rider crosses nonchalantly above the speeding dots in the middle of a 1,500km quest. Long distance truckers are maybe the only propelled voyagers who share something of the mindset of the audax rider or the randonneur. Daily distance targets, average speed calculations, scheduled stops. Long runs the fox. Night and day. The darkness comes faster and faster as the journey continues and a long time in the saddle turns hours into seconds, and days into hours. Suddenly out of the tunnel, the finish line is within smelling distance. I see the sea, and the sea sees me. And I'm going to get in it as soon as this thing is done. The amphitheatre of Menton bay is a fitting finish. Sit at the end of the strand and look back on everything in one view - the sea, the roads, the contours of the hills and the mountains. And consider if you should get the train, or just ride back...

Global locale: Winter workhorses We love where we ride but we appreciate that cycling isn't about one col, one climb or even one country. Over the coming months we will be adding our support to rides organised by some of our excellent retail partners across the globe. If any of them are where you ride, we - and they - would love to see you. The Schicke Mütze business in Düsseldorf was built on group rides. Led by Carsten, a man with a punk rock history, they shake up the established winter chain-gang format and take participants on a magical mystery tour of the left banks of the Rhine. Global Locale goes to Germany for the “Winterschlampenparade”. THE RDV : SCHICKE MÜTZE There is a very common theme to be found in the best bricks and mortar cycling emporiums around the world. They are a place of enthusiasm for the bicycle. Authentic and passionate. Schicke Mütze joined the growing trend but from a different doorway - from a love of vintage bikes and classic events like L’Eroica. That approach allowed them to come to modern cycling with fresh eyes, that were looking for timeless design. And so it is that you find a bike shop, workshop and café offering curated selection of products, services and coffee under one roof, built by cyclists who are keen to find their own road. THE PELOTON : WINTER WARRIORS If you enter “Winterschlampenparade” into Google translate the result might be slightly surprising. It’s not a reference to the riders, but to their machines. “Winterschlampe” is the pet name for the trusty winter bike, equipped with slightly wider tires and mudguards. The name is a tribute to the workhorses – from the trusty steel road bike, cross bike, singlespeed, and nowadays the modern version - the gravel bike. The only rule is that it must have drop bars – no MTB, touring or pretzel handlebars allowed. Numbers vary from a peloton of 50 people when the winter sun pokes its nose out to a core of ten hardy riders when there’s a constant drizzle and the temperature doesn’t get above three degrees. The overall demographic? Weather-resistant girls and guys of all ages who want to take on the 'Rheinischer Winter' and have two-wheeled fun on Sunday. Like any successful bunch ride it is about people on the same wavelength, in this case those who believe fun does not begin in April and end in September. THE PARCOURS : NOT THE MAIN ROAD Often the Schicke Mütze Winter Parade concentrates on the area between Duisburg, Willich and Rommerskirchen. The route changes every week, but it is always around 75 km long, making a three hour social ride with a strict non-drop policy. The small roads and tracks between the fields are ideal for group rides. Contacts with motorists are rare, encounters with farmers and tractors are more likely. It’s mostly friendly waves and/or bewildered looks from any other hardy souls braving the weather. But that remoteness and slightly rougher surface also means being prepared. When a group of twenty-three people wait for half an hour in continuous rain at five degrees, because someone with a fourteen-year-old cheap tyre has three flats in a row, then looks can kill. So far, there have only been fisticuffs once. THE PRIZES: A Belgian tan, a hot shower, the rest of the day spent on the couch. Enjoying the civilised comforts after experiencing the elements in a different way. Because outside is free and afterwards inside is comfy. LA PROCHAINE Upcoming rides are happening at Cyclingworld, a stylish German Consumer Fair for cyclists. Otherwise there is a road ride on Saturdays and a gravel ride on Sundays almost every weekend from the Schicke Mütze 'clubhouse'. RIDERS' NOTES: Strava File for the Winterschlampenparade - HERE More info on Schicke Mütze HERE, and details of the rides can be found via their Strava Club HERE

La Mercan'Tour The Mercan'Tour National Park is one of France's most untouched and most highly protected nature reserves. The Gran Fondos that share its name have exclusive access each summer to traverse this alpine architecture that lies just a beach pebble's throw from the Riviera. The mountains are calling. Pick your parcours for a summer of curated col collecting. TWIST & TURN ON TURINI, 3rd June 2018 The collection of roads that climb to Col de Turini are a living museum that displays the art of route laying. The fabled switchbacks stack themselves in engineered beauty so cyclists can scale all 1,607m of the col any direction. La Mercan'Tour Turini is based in the mountain village of Saint-Martin Vesubie - 'la Suisse niçois' - and follows a parcours that wraps itself up and around every side of the mountain. Climb the north side, descend the south side and remount from the west in a col-collecting ascent that takes in the Braus, L'Orme and L'Ablé passes, before the second arrival at Turini. Finish with a 12kms drag up the valley before deciding whether or not to make the climb to La Boréon where the wolves of the Alpha Parc des Loups lie in waiting. RIDERS' NOTES: Date - 3rd June 2018 Distance - 85kms / 115kms / 125 kms Elevation - 2,200m / 2,900m / 3,400m TAKE ON TURINI EUROPE'S HIGHEST SPORTIVE17th June 2018 The Col de la Bonette is the silent giant at the centre of the Mercan'Tour series. With the additional height of the Cime (the bitumen lassoo that reaches 2,802m) it's the highest paved pass in Europe. Ride to the roof of the Alps. Starting from the mountain resort of Valberg, traverse to the Tinée valley via the Col de la Couillole before making your way up the valley to the base of the 24kms ascension of Bonette. And if the Cime is cleared of snow, be ready to reach for the sky. Col de la Cayolle is the definition of untouched beauty. Totalling 28kms from Barcelonette, with the third hors catégorie climb done, savour the source of the Var and descend with the river to Guillaumes to face to the final 15kms climb of the Col de Valberg, if you dare. As tough as La Marmotte, possibly more beautiful than any other mountain granfondo in the world. RIDERS' NOTES: Date - 17th June 2018 Distance - 99kms / 175kms / 190 kms Elevation - 1,800m / 3,700m / 4,600m LADIES' GRAN FONDO, 8th May 2018 Following a path north from l'arrière-pays Niçois, from the rolling hills to the mountains in Valberg, the Ladies' Granfondo is a celebration of female cycling. Take in the perched villages of the collines before descending to the upper Var river valley. Enjoy the wide open landscapes before turning right up the Gorge du Daluis. Ride through the dramatic red rock of the Gorges on a balcony road that clings to the cliff edge with views of the perilous drops to happily distract you from the final kilometers to Guillaumes. The strong and the brave will continue up the 15kms alpine climb to Valberg. A stunning point to point ride tracing the path of the Var river to a mountain resort finish offering alpine culture and post-ride tranquility. RIDERS' NOTES: Date - 8th May 2018 Distance - 102kms / 116kms Elevation - 1,500m / 2,400m GO AGAINST THE FLOW LOGISTICS Nice Côte d'Azur airport is the third largest in France with great international links provided daily by large and low-cost airlines alike. Travel to each of the towns hosting the Gran Fondo series in the Alpes-Maritimes mountains is best by car or van rental from Nice. There are plenty of accommodation options in each of the host towns, which are mountain resorts with tourist services provided readily. Bike rental, workshop and advice on each of the events and cycling in the region generally is all available at our headquarters located on the Old Port in Nice. Please feel free to email booking@cafeducycliste.com if you have any questions and we will be happy to help.

Winter cycling: More conversation, same action? I’ll be honest. I don’t like winter training. Getting out of bed in the dark and cold. Looking at the lightening sky to divine what the weather will later throw at you from above. Putting the porridge and coffee on and then, while they bubble and brew, layer after layer of clothing on your body, which still wants to be in that lovely, warm bed. And the thoughts that go through my mind: what if I don’t do it, I won’t be putting the kilometres in and I won’t be building my base and I won’t hit my goals for next summer. That bed though… Let’s be totally honest. Nobody likes winter training. But what about winter cycling? What about getting out on your bike to catch up with your friends, riding at a pace at which you can all chat. Conversations. Plans and hopes and dreams. Riding holidays, touring, long rides, adventures to come. Sagan and Froome and Barguil and Dumoulin, Paris-Nice and the Giro and Roubaix. Pro gossip, the good the bad and the ugly. The low sun through the trees. Passing into a hollow where the sun hasn’t been, swimming through waves of cool and cold air. Soup and sausage rolls and stew in a casserole on the stove top when you return home. Pastries and coffee, and more coffee and hot chocolate and coffee. And suddenly that’s four hours flown past, 100km in the bank. And maybe you put in a bit of effort just to see what’s there.Turns out the worst bit is crossing the threshold from indoors to outside. When the alarm goes in the dark and the bed seems so inviting it is difficult to believe that spring is just around the corner. But take heart. The year has turned and the darkest days have passed. Those good long days are on their way back. Let’s ride out to meet them.

Global locale: The core of South Korea The Watts Cycling KCR 530 is a unique event created to push the limits and expectations of local riders. THE RDV : BUSAN The country's second biggest city in the deep south of South Korea, home to the 'Busan Cydrome', a velodrome that hosts racing every weekend. For the riders signed up to the charity ride, the objective was to get off-track away from the sprawling metropolis and into the quiet of the countryside. Six in the morning and 265kms on the menu, means each day started and ended in darkness. Sometimes the best weekends away are when you literally fill your days with cycling. THE PELOTON : WIDE EYES & NO EXPECTATIONS A mötely crue included team Café du Cycliste, decked out in Daphne and Adèle and made visible in the dark hours with Jacqueline Audax gilets. Some are more experienced than others, like Hakju Lee who started cycling three years ago, just so he could ride beside his son as he turned his first revolutions on the pedals. For many it was a first foray into long distance cycling and what was evident was the inter-dependancy on each other to make it through 17 hours in the saddle each day. THE PARCOURS : KOREA'S CORE Joining the two biggest cities in the country by riding through the nation's heartlands. Good news: this is a nation now traversed by specifically built bike paths. In the modern age when long distance cycling has suffered some high profile fatalities, we'll take the extra safety of designated byways. Bad news: it's still 530kms. But they say you should follow water for the path of least resistance. The network of bike paths in South Korea follows its four main rivers - Han River, Nakdong River, Geum River and Yeongsan River. That is not to say this is a flat ride. With 3,698m of climbing along the way riders had to find their own flow to ensure they made it to Seoul. THE PRIZES: BEER & GLORY What to do after your longest ever ride across your mother land? Beer, of course. Longer lasting, however, is the intimate knowledge of the country's contours and curves having rolled wheels over almost all of it. And to do that with new friends made via cycling should make a permanent entry in the cycling memoirs of all those who rode. LA PROCHAINE :The next Watt's KCR 530 will be held in October 2018.And starting this March Watts Cycling will be running weekly rides for local and visiting cyclists from their shop in Seoul. Details can be found on their Facebook page.RIDERS' NOTES: Strava File - here More info on Watts Cycling - here

Heat traces on the Côte d'Azur The temperature may be at its lowest point of the year, but the heat traces remain. We're not talking about the ever-present palm trees or even more permanent tans of some local residents, but rather the dramatic lines of the Strava Heatmap. Playing with the zoom button is a fun way to find our favourite Cols, but without labels or other cartographic features, can you guess which is which? 1. SWITCHBACK OVERDOSE An easy one to begin with. A coiled spring of 65 switchbacks in total if you ride it using the old road. This one is perhaps lesser known because it's a bit of hike from Nice and fronts up to Italy, but it is an in-house favourite with an unpaved summit. 2. A MOUNTAIN LASSO What is interesting about this Col is that the trace is really hot on the south eastern side before fading out 10kms before the summit. Maybe that's because the road is only open for approximately six months of the year or maybe it's because each side is more than 24kms long. What the lines also show is that those that do ride to the top, usually do the extra loop... 3. THE KINGDOM OF LE ROI More hot switchbacks but surprisingly the east side scorches a bit more brightly. On the west, look for the #everytimeipass photo point. The keen-eyed will see the north road leading to a col-bagging transition towards this climb's bigger brother. 4. THE NIGHT OF THE LONG KNIVES Zoom in and you see this Col is on fire, especially on the southern side. Maybe the petrolheads who make the pilgrimage to it each summer have Strava turned on too? The map shows the three major ascents, and if you climb all of them in one day you become certified.... 5. THE BALD MANTwo sets of seven neatly-stacked switchbacks in less than five kms and only 30 minutes ride from central Nice means this one gives a good exchange rate between distance and elevation. Go past the barrier to summit the bald head. 6. FERRARI RAMPS Almost equally balanced, but once again the lesser known side of this col burns slightly brighter. This testing ground has probably seen more pro wheels than many other cols yet has never featured on the Tour. If you're lucky, you'll get a live drums performance at the top. How many can you identify? Submit your answers via our Facebook page HERE for a chance to win the Café du Cycliste cap filled with the badge for all six of the climbs.

Pax Avant Peace and cold in the Pyrenees. The snow falls and the noise stills. Almost to nothing. The western Pyrenees are like our own Alpes-Maritimes. They deceive by their proximity to the coast line and lower peak altitudes, which hide hors catégorie climbs of over 20kms in length. If you manage to pass through the window from the sea to the slopes, on the other side, around now, lies the sweetspot of cold, dry and high. Alone on a mountain. Deserted by cyclists and yet to succumb to other winter alpinists. All is quiet, all is peace. The Col de la Pierre Saint-Martin is a border pass that divides France and Spain. And is historic for peace of another kind. At 11am on 13 July 1375, communities from both sides of the mountain gathered on the Col to declare peace after two years of brutal, bloody, tit-for-tat fighting and murder. The pact is known as the Pax Avant : so let there be peace. We all have our own ways of finding peace. For many of us it involves going longer. Or faster. Or higher. 'I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news' John Muir Perhaps the destination we seek is amplified by the effort of reaching it. Because riding solo in the mountains is always comfortably uncomfortable. Doubts are born on the way, problems confronted, issues resolved. And battles fought. All to find that peace. That moment of reflection. That pure joy of being. That right place, right time. That sense of perspective it allows, that sense of achievement it brings. The Pax Avant still lives on these slopes. It stands to this day. Six hundred and forty two years after it was first proclaimed. And just for a precious few hours, we who after all are but strangers in this house, shared in its bounty. Will you go in search ? Will you dance upon the snow?

ARL - MRS The concept was cooked up by Arles Gravel group and their Marseillais counterparts, Boomerang. Looking for a pure product they created something powerful; something that would make you addicted to gravel. The goods: a Vitamin G route between Arles and Marseille combining secret chemins, quiet back roads, sweet singletrack and beautiful vistas. Time limits? RDV at Arles gare at 0800, last return train from the coast for the Arles contingent at 2000. This was not a race, a sportive or a randonee. It was a trip. STARTERS They crawl from the shadows around the station. Thirty-odd scrawny cyclists come together shivering around the ring leaders, searching for their dose of gravel, like flies to the light. They all know why they are there, determined to have it at whatever cost. GETTING HIGH The light is brighter and brighter. The addicts roll east, hiding bleary eyes behind sunglasses and tipping the visors of their caps as they face up to the rising sun. Ever­­­ so slightly the tempo rises after the warm up in the streets of vieux Arles and the smooth roads of the suburbs. The first songs of the birds ring out, changing reflections blur on the marsh waters and the light strobes through the roadside trees. TRANSE It’s easy to spot the first of the group to go into the trance – racing like galloping horses, straight-lining through puddles of water, laughing and screaming in English or Italian. Follow the wheel, take the draft, breathing amplifies and pupils dilate as a drop of sweat pearls on the edge of your helmet. OVERDOSE & HALLUCINATIONS Rolling across the desert plain, slapped by the wind, battered by relentless rocks that strain men and machines. The Coussouls of Crau is too much. There are not good vibrations. Speeds drop, legs and bodies become heavy. These flat lands have become a downer. Post-gravel spinning on paved roads after Entressens and the hallucinations arrive. Some punk in low-rise jeans, an 80s Adidas jacket, sneakers and flat pedals casually rolling along at 35km/h? Further up the road, some goblin on a mountain bike with a laser attached to his helmet and a bell rattling under his saddle, also somehow riding at the same speed. This is crazy, so time out is called at Miramar. SUBSTANCE Consciousness regained, other riders come into clear view, in the same state, having the same journey with their bodies, and their own personal voyage in their heads. Whether you’re crossing the bottom of the sun-soaked valley or in the queue of the boulangerie, you eventually become the journey. Finding strength in a morceau, or the warmth of the mid-day winter sun, the experience becomes more intense, more enjoyable, seemingly eternal… THE LINE ON THE BOARD At the edge of the cliff, on the plateau of Vitrolles, a pause. De-mount and just stare at the skyline. The bright, cold sunlight of reveals the landscape in seemingly artificially saturated colours. From a distance, you do not understand what the riders on the cliff edge are shouting because the wind is too strong. The narrowed eyes, the grin on the lips, facing the landscape they indulge in the mistral, arms outstretched, half-birds half-human. ANGEL DUST From the sublime, to the industrial. Commercial zones and their abandoned remains bring you back to reality. The red mud of Septèmes-les-Vallons remind you of the wizards of chemical transformation who in past lawless times have forever impacted this hilltop. The ashes of a recent fire form a red trail snaking like a vein into the desolate landscape. But your gravel bike, like an angel, sublimates the nightmare and turns it into a dream. The bright red iron ore dust is but dried angel blood. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN The pain of the addiction comes, in the Vallon de la Barre de Fer. At the end of the trip, your mind has forgotten how brutal these rough and rocky climbs can be. The rear wheel loses traction, the front wheel smacks and bounces on bigger rocks. But then the long descent into town - to the Vallon Dol basin, the sea view, La Batarelle, Saint miter, Saint Jerome, Malpasse, the Carthusians, then the landing in the heart of the city, boulevard Longchamp. RELAPSE You are wrung out, in front of a beer at Longchamp Palace. With a silly smile on your face, there are not yet any withdrawal symptoms because today, you have had your dose. It’s saved in your body, the physical and emotional experience. Some are buzzing, others are silently stunned. Two or three days later, you’re looking out the train window, planning your next shot of gravel.