10

My daughter Jasmine is 10.

She has always enjoyed cycling, ever since her first bike, when she was 4.

She's not one to exert herself, though. I suspect what she likes most about cycling is that she can keep moving without pedalling when the gradient takes her.

Today, I needed to cycle to Tenby. My wife has been called up for a spot of urgent facepainting this afternoon, and was needing to replenish her stocks from Griggles.

I gave Jasmine the option of coming with me or not, and despite the threat of rain, she chose to come along.

There are some punishing hills along the route, the longest being the hill from Lamphey up to the Ridgeway. She took this one in her stride. We stopped halfway to catch our breath, but she soldiered on and completed it, much to my amazement. Along the top of the Ridgeway we had wind and drizzle, though not wet enough to warrant the wearing of waterproofs. Down into St Florence was a wild descent, and she managed to draw safely to a stop in front of an approaching car - hopefully the shock will teach him to curb his speed somewhat and be a bit less impatient. Other motorists were very kind and courteous to us.

Beyond St Florence, a few more shorter but steeper hills had her walking-and-pushing for short stretches, but it was a last resort. Going into Tenby is the shortest steepest nastiest hill of the lot. I turned round to find her cycling up it with ease!

We had comfortable time in which to do our shopping and get to the railway station in time for a train back to Pembroke Dock.

I gave her the option of getting the train all the way back, or getting off, either at Lamphey or Pembroke, and cycling the remaining distance. She elected to get off at Lamphey.

Bush Hill, between Pembroke and Pembroke Dock, is a killer. Even her mother cannot do the whole of Bush Hill. Jasmine did it! Now we're home again, she has wibbly legs, especially when coming down stairs. Now she wants to take her bike when we go camping!

One Proud Parent!

FURTHER DELAYS

My new spokes are still not here. Mark at the shop says they're on order. He also says they didn't have plain gauge spokes in stock, so he's ordered me "competition" spokes. Just wish they'd get here in competitive time!

SPOKECALC

(click the title to find yourself a cool spoke-calculating online app)

One has to take various critical measurements - rim diameter, hub flange diameter, distance from each hub flange to the centre (the rear flanges are offset by the cassette or freewheel). These measurements are then fed into the calculator along with the number of spokes, and the length of spoke is calculated according to which lace pattern is to be used.

A vernier caliper is all that's needed for hub measuring, but rim diameter is trickier, and is best effected by cutting 2 spokes 200mm from the threaded ends. A nipple is then threaded onto the spokes, and the spokes inserted into opposing eyelets. The distance between the spoke ends is measured, and 400mm added to the figure. As a rim may not be exactly round, an average is taken from a number of measurements. It's all quite critical, with small tolerances. The spokes I have been given are only 2mm longer than the suggested length, but I would run out of thread before they were tight enough, and the couple of extra millimetres would protrude beyond the end of the nipple. This, in itself is not critical on the rims I am using, as the nipples are set deep in the rim, but a professional would never do this, whatever the circumstances.

As learning curves go, it's been a good one. The groundwork I covered by reading both wheelbuilding books has been solid and useful. Dismantling and relacing the wheel on which I am working has also been a very useful if time consuming exercise.

WHEELBUILDING - AN ART

My front wheel, sadly not yet built. Laced in a 3x pattern, complete with brass spoke washers (which are worth the extra effort!) only to find the spokes supplied are a few millimetres too long. I have spoken to the bike shop, and they will need to order new spokes at the correct length...

Bugger.

I had hoped to spend some time this weekend building and truing both wheels, but it is not to be. I have tried a 3x lace pattern and a 4x lace pattern, but the supplied spokes are too short for 4x, which I would actually prefer. I may try the 290mm spokes I took from the old rims, just for exercise. I have tried 2 different methods of lacing - Gerd Schraner's and Roger Musson's, and prefer the latter for ease of application, though it only applies to a 3x lace.

Gerd's method can easily be adapted to 2x, 3x and 4x.

Reading wheelbuilding discussion groups is an enlightenment! The word "anal" comes to mind frequently. Each and every theory has an equal and opposite counterpart, and there are certainly no "definitive" answers. No shortage of people demanding them though!

Now, I need to measure my rims and hubs and do a wheel spoke calculation. I may be gone some time!

WHEEL ISSUE RESOLVED

Today I took delivery of my new rims.

I also have 72 stainless steel spokes and nipples. I am delighted with the rims, described as they are on the Mavic website as "bombproof"; exactly what I wanted. I have lost my new freehub body which disappeared with the old wheel, but I'm happy to put that one down to experience. I'm annoyed at the length of time taken to sort this out, but happy that, once I have built the wheels up, I will have a far superior set of handbuilt wheels, built by my own fair hands. I have placed spoke washers on all the new spokes! Spoke washers!

BACK IN THE WARMTH

I noticed today that my blog "Coming in from the Cold" was left unfinished. This was the blog I created to document my move to Cardiff. I finished it today. Click on the title to go to the blog.

WORLD CUP OVER!

Today I have spent most of the day involved in churchy things:

• 9.30am - 10.30am Holy Eucharist (Anglican, fairly boring).
• 10.30am - 11.30am PtL*
• 4.00pm - 5.00pm Sea Sunday**

Between times I have been cooking dinner, printing service sheets and having a bath - quite a busy day all in all, especially for a Sabbath!

I was unable to watch any of the live TdF broadcast during the afternoon, so we watched the highlights between 7 and 8pm. Interestingly, my daughter Jasmine (10) commented;

"It's not fair" as yet another closeup of an unplaced and struggling Lance Armstrong filled our screen.

"What's not?" I asked.

"At school they talked about Wimbledon and they talked about The World Cup, but they haven't talked about the Tour de France!" Good point well made, No. 1 Daughter!

I will supply her with some merchandise so that she can bring up this iniquity herself.

Afterwards, we watched Top Gear, where the running joke was;

"We can say what we like, no-one's watching. The World Cup is live on BBC1 and ITV, who is going to be watching us?" Well, 4 of us were.

After Top Gear, children and wife headed off to feather and flop, and I watched the remaining minutes of the World Cup, just so I'd know what noises to make tomorrow. Just my luck that it should go into extra time. So this is it - the pinnacle of footballing excellence. Players being shown a yellow card for kicking the ball away. Is it the same yellow card every time? Someone got to see it twice, which earned him a red card, and he got to go off early. Ah well, it's all over. It is, now.

*PtL - Praise the Lord, a new initiative led by Phill Needs, a theatrical type with a guitar, held in the Lady chapel after the main Eucharist. Supposed to be a fun learning experience, turned into a battle of wills to keep up with him as he raced through his repertoire. Things will improve, this was the first one.

**Sea Sunday - nationwide (worldwide?) church inititaive. We gathered at the docks with the town silver band and sang rousing hymns, said prayers etc. Well attended, good fun.

TdF 1ST MOUNTAIN STAGE

Chavanel takes the Yellow Jersey back from Cancellara.

Andy Schleck takes the White Jersey from Geraint Thomas, which is a shame, though he's done it without the usual support of brother Frank Schleck, who is out with a broken collarbone.

Roll on the big mountains! Finish on Morzine!

TEXT COLOUR

I'm enjoying having a transparent blog with a photograph of a bicycle behind it. I think it looks "right". It has its problems though, the main one being text colour. My Facebook friend Dominique made a comment tonight that the red text was difficult to read, and while it's great that the blog looks good, first and foremost it must be easy to read.

After a little experimentation, I've switched from red to white. What do you think?

FFALD-Y-BRENIN

The vicar and I are going to a meeting at Ffald-y-Brenin Christian retreat centre today. The meeting is from 3pm to around 8pm. The vicar can't pick me up till 3, as his wife uses the family car, and it won't be back till then.

We were discussing this yesterday, outside the church, in the steadily pouring rain. I was leaning on my bike, ready to come home for lunch. He couldn't wait to get out of the rain and back into the Rectory.

I was going to suggest we cycle.

Ffald-y-Brenin is in the lovely Gwaun Valley, on the edge of the Preseli Hills in North Pembrokeshire, around 25 miles from here - a very pleasant 2 hour ride for me, nearer 3 hours with the Rev in tow on his mountain bike, but he'd never even attempt it. He'd happily go for a 15 mile walk, but getting him on the bike is another matter.

Consequently, we miss an hour of what promises to be a very interesting meeting indeed.

SOME THOUGHTS ON TdF AND LONG DISTANCE CYCLING

Watching the Tour de France, I become lost in my own thoughts.

I realised a couple of nights ago while watching the Holland v Uruguay World Cup semi-final with a visiting friend that I (and the rest of my family) struggle to watch 22 men kick an air-filled leather bag around a rectangular field for 90ish minutes; we find the concept of cricket, where a single game can last a week, incomprehensible, yet we will happily engross ourselves in the spectacle and politics of a couple of hundred men talking a leisurely three-week cycle tour around foreign countryside.

Speaking personally, I love it because I understand it.

I don't mean I understand all the rules.

I don't mean I understand the crazy goings-on behind the scenes.

I mean I understand "it".

I love cycling long distances, especially over a few consecutive days, where you can really "get into the groove" of cycling. My family don't understand this as yet, though they're perfectly happy to allow me to go off and indulge myself. My two older children will happily cycle 10 miles or so, which is pretty good for a 10 and a 7 year old. They'd probably go further if I took them. The oldest likes to get out in front and just travel along "in her own little world", just like me. I'm looking forward to the time when we can go off together for whole weekends!

People (non-cyclists) look horrified when I tell them how far I like to cycle. Even the average "person-with-a-bike" (as opposed to Cyclists) does. Personally, I don't understand how one can own a bike and still be limited to your home town. Doesn't the desire to travel That Bit Further grab you by the neck and drag you along the nearest exit from town? One of the advantages cycling has over walking is that you can go that much faster, that much further. It's the whole point.

When you know you're going to be in the saddle all day long, you take a very different approach to nipping to the shops:

• You check your bike assiduously (if you have any sense).
• You dress appropriately. Comfort is everything.
• You start off slowly. Energy conservation is paramount.
• You make sure you have good stocks of food and drink.

You'll kick off at a nice leisurely pace and allow your muscles to ease into a rhythm, to warm up and speed up naturally, and it's often surprising how quickly you find your pace increasing. Pedalling as lightly as you can, realising how energy-efficient you can be, is a great way to travel.

As you develop your own pace (this is why I prefer solitary cycling - going at my pace rather than that dictated by others) you fall into a rhythm which is dictated by the state of your musculature and you start to maintain that rhythm, regardless of terrain. Shallow inclines start to disappear, as you just increase the power of your pedalling to keep your cadence. You soon get to know which gear you need to be in as a hill approaches, rather than have to suddenly crunch down them halfway up.

Even riding with others, when you're covering a long distance, there is little time for conversation. You are very much "on your own" and it's this I find attractive. I can travel with or without an ipod, though I do prefer to travel with one so I have the choice of silence or a backing track.

A 3-day cycle ride is a guarantee of 3 days of solitude!

If you stop anywhere, say at a roadside burger van for a cup of tea, if you're a trucker or a car driver, the griddle-monkey will have set conversational pieces ready for you "A30 chokker"; "David Cameron? Wankah!" etc, but not for cyclists. They know you want good strong tea. They know the chances are you'll be tempted by the smell of bacon, but beyond fulfilling your needs and taking your money there's no more common ground than between a fish and an ant. They'll usually leave you well alone.

If they do feel the need to make conversation, having stood alone by the roadside all morning, you can always whip out the trusty multitool and start fiddling with something on your bike. If they persist, ask them to hold the chain. This is a last resort, and rarely needs to be deployed. If you're dampened with sweat, they'll usually stay far enough away to render polite conversation impractical.

Obviously, while you're on your bike, the nearest you'll get to meaningful discourse is a motorist shouting at you for taking up too much road at a roundabout and causing them to have to slow down. Hand gestures are perfectly adequate and eloquent by way of reply, and you don't need to shout.

MY BIG RIDE, THE MAP

Here is the GPS trace from MY BIG RIDE. The Blue section is Day One, the Red section Day Two, and the Green squiggle is Day Three. (where I got lost. The rest of Day Three is mingled in with the Taff Trail)

Below are the related altitude traces.

(Johnston to Carmarthen, and Cardiff back to Pembrokeshire were done by train)

MY BIG RIDE PART 3

The intention was to cycle from Cardiff back to Pembrokeshire, or at least Carmarthen. I only had my GPS for company, no maps to consult. My experience of NCN cycle routes is that they're usually very well signposted and negate the need for map-carrying. I'd slept well at my friend Colin's and woken early, around 5.30am.

It was a warm and sunny morning, so I lit out around 6, taking the Taff Trail back out of Cardiff to Pontypridd to link up with Route 47 which heads west to Neath and onwards to Carmarthen. Sustrans spent the whole of last year bombarding me with emails about their wonderful "Valleys Network" of cycle trails, so I was looking forward to trying it out.

It didn't work.

Finding Route 47 was harder than it might seem, and involved riding up and down through Abercynon a few times and going off-route through the town, but I did eventually find it. However, after a couple miles I came upon a T junction with a signpost right for "high level" Route 47 but no low-level alternative. I took the high level route and went up some serious gradients along quite lanes, but then the trail went off over a locked gate up a very stony forest trail. After a few miles of this I came upon a motocross trail and asked a couple of guys for directions, but in typical valleys fashion they sent me round in circles. Thanks Lads. Every direction involved a steep hill, and when I finally rejoined so-called civilisation at Mountain Ash, I was getting a bit tired. The sun was high in the heavens, the day was hot, and I had had no breakfast. It was Sunday - there was only a convenience store showing signs of life in Mountain Ash and I managed to buy the worst Cornish Pasty I have ever tasted there. According to the station timetable, there were trains to Cardiff or Aberdare. It was annoying and frustrating to have to go back to Cardiff after wasting so much effort, but getting anywhere else would take even more effort.

I decided to ride back down the trail, and got to Cardiff station with only minutes to spare before the Swansea train. Phew.

TdF

It's THAT time of year again!

How many families up and down the country are looking forward to being unable to watch Emmerdale/Coronation Street (I refuse to call it Corrie or any other abbreviation)/Eastenders because the highlights of the Tour de France are being shown on ITV4between 7 and 8pm every night?

We are! As a family, we love it.

My wife has had the TdF theme as a ringtone on her phone for the past year. My daughter wears her TdF baseball cap to school with pride.

It's fantastic.

Wimbledon fascinated the kids this year. I usually watch the men's and women's singles finals, but only so as not to be a social leper, and if it's showing signs of going on too long I'll have a kip. Thankyou Serena Williams, I missed my afternoon nap yesterday.

The World Cup is obviously talked about at school, but actually sitting down and watching a game of football is a non-starter in our house. The fidgeting starts before Gary Lineker has opened his mouth. We're NOT INTERESTED in the England Team with their bloated egos and salaries to match. When Germany spanked their arses and sent them home I laughed, I really did.

THREE WEEKS of cycling around a foreign country? Bring It On!

WHEELY GOOD

My new rims and spokes are being ordered. I will be building the wheels myself.

MY BIG RIDE PART 2

After a not unreasonable night's sleep, I woke around 6am. I listened again to the Barefoot Doctor's Supercharged Taoist guided meditations and some psalms, did some slow stretching, testing the pressure on my knees. Nothing felt particularly untoward. The morning was overcast and misty. I sorted through all my stuff, then wandered the grounds of the Youth Hostel awaiting breakfast at 8, which was a good one. All the cereal and toast you could eat, a modest fried breakfast, and plenty of tea. Perfect, although I forgot to fill my flask.

I cycled down the canal towpath into Brecon, arriving at the basin by the theatre in plenty of time. I was very surprised when not one but two coachloads of people arrived, along with the Pedal Power van and trailer, and a builder's lorry with bikes piled on the back. I'd expected around 20 people, if that!

Strangely, the only person I recognised was Drew. He made clear that he would probably be the slowest person around the course, so I made the decision that rather than tag along with another rider or a group, I'd lead off and set a good starting pace.

The canal towpath was congested. After a couple of miles the route swings off down country lanes and I was soon free of the crowds and whizzing along. Talybont Reservoir was the first real stopping place, just for a photo. A couple of other cyclists were close behind me and also stopped, but I don't even know if they were on the ride. I kicked off again, along Six Mile Bank

which was very hard going for my thin road tyres. I was caught up by a few people as I stopped to photograph the view; a dad and son combo on full-sus mountain bikes who were rapidly losing steam, and a chap on a hybrid who looked tasty. He kept edging ahead, even when I was talking to him, which I took to be the "tossing of the gauntlet". I tucked in behind him, led him up the sting-in-the-tail climb at the end, and, after a brief water stop at the van, left him for dead on the hill where we rejoined the road, with a tasty option to eat my dust.

It seemed like I'd made Merthyr Tydfil in a matter of minutes, and from here the ride is pretty much all downhill, though progress is severely hampered by the plethora of barriers and chicanes one has to negotiate, particularly between Pontypridd and Cardiff.

(Later that day, my friend Colin asked me "Did you put your stuff on the van?". At first I had no idea what he was talking about, but what he meant was, had I loaded my panniers onto the van in Brecon for them to bring back to Cardiff for me? It hadn't even occurred to me to do that. Shedding the weight would probably have shaved a good 20 minutes off my time anyway, but the extra time spent lifting my panniers over stupid barriers would have probably given me a further 20 minutes at least!)

Arriving at Tongwynlais I met Keith Underdown and stopped for a brief chat, but having no idea how far behind me the next man was, I pressed on.

At the finish, I was a good 20 minutes ahead of second, which quite staggered me. It was commented on that I'd cycled 52 miles in around 4.5 hours and "didn't look bothered". I wasn't.

THE BONK

No! Not that sort! Ooer!

The Bonk to which I refer is the one to which cyclists allude. "I was on for a well-timed 100k, cruising along quite happily, when around 70k I bonked..." They're not talking about suddenly leaping from their steed to engage in sexual intercourse with anyone who happens to be passing, because:

1. it would take them too long to get their bib tights off
2. no-one, in their right mind or otherwise, would let a sweaty cyclist anywhere near them, especially in broad daylight
3. after 70k they'd rather have a cup of tea.

No, what they're talking about is what I think I experienced on my ride to Brecon. I had been sailing along. I cannot stress how effortless I felt the first 40 miles had been. Admittedly, the hill I ascended at around 45 miles was a complete Bastard on which a wasp started to attack my face, causing me to make a terminal stop on a 16% gradient, but I was still feeling fine as I breasted the hill and began my long and very rapid descent (42mph). I even experienced quite worrying speed wobble, something I seem to have read quite a bit about lately, but similarly, not experienced much before. As the gradient levelled out and I was beginning to have to pedal again, I found my right knee would tolerate NO pressure whatsover without causing me great pain, and I couldn't let my left leg take the strain as the power had drained from every fibre of tendon and muscle. I felt cold-sweaty, mildly dizzy and slightly nauseous. I followed the signs for the Brecon Beacons visitor centre and was soon dismounted and pushing my bike up a seemingly innocuous incline (coming down later I realised it was considerably steeper than I first conceived it to be). Even walking was painful. I made the visitor centre after a long hard struggle and immediately doused my head to cool down and bought a nice big meal - a huge beef pie and salad, which was just what the doctor ordered. It recovered me sufficiently to cruise on into Brecon, but only because the rest of the journey was downhill. I used high strength Ibuleve gel on my knee as soon as I got to a chemist, and when I made the Youth Hostel had a cool shower and went to sleep within minutes. I don't think the Ibuleve had any effect, though the sleep did, and there was no sign of the pain the following morning, though I was ultra cautious for the first few miles.

I put it down to my low-carb diet, which I had been following for a month or so. Ive certainly pushed myself harder than I did that day, but the worst I'd experienced was a mild lethargy and an urge to lay down and go to sleep somewhere. Nothing like this. It was a bit scary, if I'm honest.

MY BIG RIDE, PART 1

I haven't told you about my Big Ride yet! Sorry!

My "training" and preparations were quite badly disrupted by the disintegration of my rear road wheel (see previous posts) so I wasn't feeling very confident come the day, and had the feeling I might have overstretched myself. Rather than run the risk of exhausting or injuring myself on the first day, I decided I would take the train to Carmarthen (about 30 miles) and start my cycle from there. Trains from here start at 7.05 and get into Carmarthen around 8.15am. It's usually quite a full train and fairly unpleasant. There is often only one old and dirty carriage. From Milford Haven, just across the river, the first train is at 6am, and is always a newer, larger train, so I decided to cycle 5 miles along the Brunel Trail and catch the train at Johnston, getting me to Carmarthen for 7am.

The sun was just over the horizon and heading towards a fairly cloudless sky as I left the house for a hasty scoot over the bridge (left it a bit late) but I made the station with a good 10 minutes to spare. The train was spacious, and I cocooned myself in my ipod and read my bible. I listened to some inspirational mediations from The Barefoot Doctor, and I'm actually convinced that these made all the difference to my physical and mental well being!

At Carmarthen, the sky was a good deal cloudier and there was an early morning mist hugging the hills, but the sun was fighting its way through. The chilliness was welcome, and I headed out along the main A40 through Llandeilo and Llandovery towards my destination at Brecon.

I stopped at two roadside chuck wagons, having a bacon roll at the first, and just a cup of tea at the second, and despite taking my time I was astounded at the time I was making. Arriving at Sennybridge around 12.30pm with only 10 miles to go, I decided to take the longer route via the Brecon Beacons visitor centre, which involved an extra 10 miles and a couple of serious climbs, the second of which saw my knee collapse beneath me.

As I turned off the main road to take the road to the visitor centre, me energy drained from me completely. My right knee quickly became excruciatingly painful, and at one point just would not turn. It was all I could do to push the bike, though I did get back on and make it up to the visitor centre (note: two signs, about a mile apart, both indicating 1.5 miles cannot be right...).

I found the cafe and had a HUGE beef pie and salad with a pot of tea - perfect. I sat around for a while waiting for the pain in my knee to subside, but it showed no signs of abating, so I headed off again. Fortunately the whole 5 or 6 miles into Brecon were downhill.

Upon arrival I found a chemist and bought some Ibuleve extra strength gel and some paracetamol and headed out to find the Youth Hostel, which is a couple of miles out in the middle of nowhere, but well signposted.

NEW WHEELS!

The bike shop phoned today. I can have new wheels built. They will accept my front wheel back and credit me with enough to enable the shop to build me a couple of decent touring wheels. This is a good outcome.