Next month, for a magazine article, I’ll be cycling the Way of the Roses, 1970s style: on a vintage bike and with only kit from that era. No lycra, no gadgets. Today was a kind of test-cum-photoshoot – done with a 1970s 35mm SLR, in black and white, on a few train-assisted highlights of the route.
Unfortunately it’ll take three weeks for the prints to come back from Boots, so what you see on this page is digital snaps, taken today, but Photoshopped to look like old prints.
It was windy and cold, so I didn’t enjoy having to strip off to T-shirt and shorts in order to match what I hope I’ll be wearing in warmer circumstances next month on the ‘official’ ride. At least in black and white you can’t see my skin turning blue.
My ‘1970s clothes’ didn’t extend as far as flared trousers – I couldn’t find a pair in York’s charity shops or vintage-clothes boutiques – but it did extend to a Brian May wig. After taking a couple of pictures wearing it, I realised why I had never become a prog-rock guitarist. So a floppy sunhat was as far as my headgear authenticity went.
The good news is that my vintage bike is a corker. Sourced from Resurrection Bikes, who refurbish donated bikes for charity in Harrogate, it’s a 1978 Claud Butler Jubilee. (It was silver, to celebrate 50 years since their first bikes.) Pitched as a fast-tourer in the manner of the times, it has Reynolds 531 tubing and is an absolute delight to ride: springy, light, agile, comfy.
Some parts have long been replaced – the tyres (now modern Schwalbes), front chainset (a triple, not the original double), and the rear cassette and changer. But some are still there: the Brooks B17 saddle, beautifully supple and comfortable; the ‘deluxe’ rear carrier, which looks alarmingly flimsy to modern eyes; and the Weinmann centre pull brakes, which still have a bite.
I’ll be talking in detail about the bike, and the period gear, when I do the trip in earnest in April.
But in brief, my equipment, sourced from generous friends, includes ancient Ever Ready lights the size and weight of a brick, and about as good at illumination; a yellow cycling cape which smells like a paddling pool; toeclips and pump; Bartholomew maps.
All I need now is a jam sandwich made with Sunblest bread and a bottle of Dandelion & Burdock.
Most excitingly, thanks to those lovely people at Carradice, I have a modern replica of a trad-era saddlebag: a Camper Longflap. This is a revelation: it can expand ingeniously to swallow bagfuls of kit, and having the weight on the saddle itself makes its effect on the ride quality unnoticeable. It’s a reassuringly crafted thing of beauty, it really is.
