Barum Wheeler - A life in the Cycle Lane

The other morning I went for a coffee with Ken Tisbury who I bumped into in the Library. He'd been in there looking through old Kelly's directory's for 1941. He gems up on the businesses listed and then later sits in the pub going "do you remember Furse's Seed Merchants? Used to be in Cross Street" Of course no one did,  but it was always a good icebreaker at the start of a session and inevitably led into a heated converstaion about the location, staff and purveyances of long defunct Barum businesses. He was just about to get going by asking if I recalled Godden's china shop, apparently it used to be in the High Street  when I noticed out the corner of my eye a poster in the cafe window advertising the Barnstaple Criterium cycle race. After Kenny had left to trundle off  down to the Marshals, not before instigating a debate upon the location of the Young Men's Christian Association hostel, I took a closer look. It turns out that on the eve of the Tour of Britain stage start in Barum there is going to be a race around the town. A crit is what they are called. They go whizzing about a small street circuit for an hour or so. I have come across this before on the continent a couple of times. I remember one in San Sebastian when we were working over there dredging in the harbour, mind you that was a few years ago now and it was very excitng stuff. I suppose it'll be the same sort of thing. Fabulous. What a way to celebrate this golden summer of cycling glory.
Of course here in Barum and Devon as a whole we are no strangers to competitive road cycling. No Johnny come lately, glory seekers are we in these parts. Infact, Devon was the first place in Britain to host a stage of the Tour de France in 1974 I think it was. When the whole shebang piled onto a ferry at Roscoff sailed over to Plymouth and raced  around a roundabout for the day before returning to France on the evening crossing. I remember seeing it on Westward news and on World of Sport the following Saturday. Latterly the County hosts, nearly every year, at least one stage of the Tour of Britain and every weekend the lanes are peppered with folk doing Elite time trials . Further back the annual Milk Race would usually wind it's way through North Devon.

I remember seeing the Commer van with the big milk bottle mounted on top crossing Bideford bridge and trundle along the old A39 followed by a couple of hundred of riders from all over the place. They even had a few Russians in the race. Now, I tell you that was a strange think to witness back then in the Cold War days, seeing these blond, lean, athletic Soviets with CCCP emblazoned on their shirts peddling past the Wrey Arms. I do remember one year the race went through Fremington just after farmer Grigg had moved his cows across the road by what is now the Han Court Chinese restaurant and was then Marsh's garage subsequently the road was a bit slippy and the cyclists were sliding all over the place before tumbling into a mass pile up just outside the New Inn.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDckOAjtcOc

When I was a youngster we didn't have computers or video games or even any year around covered sports facilities, and having grown out of dressing up as cowboys with cap guns, your bike was always your most treasured possession. Mother would always kick us out anyway first thing come rain or shine if we weren't at school. So left to your own devices and if you were crap at football your bike was all you had. Plus, that's all we had to get us about the place, no mum or dad to ferry us here there and everywhere. Not back then. I'd never dream of asking Father to give is a lift anywhere, even to A&E if me leg was half off. Later on as a young man you kept on cycling right up to the day you were married and had a family as it was only then did you get a car and then only if you could afford it. We could all drive but back then but you got paid less if you were under 21 and not married so you'd be hard pressed financially to change your mode of transportation. Meself, even though I can just about drive and like me cars, but never really having a fixed income I've always had to stick to alternative modes of transportation, my canoe and of course my bike.
In my twenties, inspired by watching the Milk Race, seeing the Tour de France on ITV and the Eddy Mercx and Tom Simpson and having the good fortune to come across the professional cycling in the Basque Country I souped up my bike. I already had a Reynolds frame but I bought a Campagnolo chainset and brakes from the Exchange & Mart and after a few visits down to Gordy's and up to Mr Pewley's shop up at Newport I was able to select some of the best components and build a mean machine. I recall Gordy charged me 75p for an alloy front wheel.  I started off tentatively by doing time trials along the Old Bideford Road to the dump and back before extending my range. I'd stick my bike on the train and get off at Umberleigh, then further down the line to Bishops Nympton coming back via Chittehamolt, Cobbaton, and Codden Hill lovely ride. Eventually, I'd take the first train on a Sunday morning up to Newton St. Cyres and wheel my way back through the Taw Valley. You had to get out on the road early in order to avoid the Exeter Road Rats biker gang who were in the habit of running cyclists into the nearest ditch and hedge as I found out rather painfully at first hand when I ended up in a pond outside of Morchard Bishop in a cloud of motorcycle fumes and with a buckled front wheel. A few times a whole gang of us would stage an alternative team time trial racing along the back roads from Lapford to Bishops Nympton to Chittles 'hamolt, 'hampton and Chulmleigh trying to get in as many pints as you could during a Sunday lunchtime before closing time. You always had to make the Bell by two. Then we'd have a wobbly leisurely ride back into Barum for a cup of frothy coffee in Divitos thus avoiding the Road Rats. Happy days.
Unfortunately, they don't have a veterans category for the Crit as I'd think about having a go. You never lose it. I still have the bike. It's a museum piece now but it always attracts a lot of interest from fellow cyclists when I'm out and about on the Tarka trail. So. I'm going to give it a good clean up put on me Devon cycling jersey, leggings and wheel along to the Strand on Friday evening and of course Saturday morning to see the start and have a good old nose about. I hope to get a photo with some of the Basque cyclists whose predecessors were so inspirational in my life in the cycle lane.

A remarkable contribution to cycling in North Devon

I've just had a thought. Wouldn't it be a bleddy marvelous idea to see if Gordy Webber would like to cut the ribbon at the start of the race or lead out the riders with a few of his mates over the Long Bridge as a gesture of appreciation for his contribution to cycling in North Devon. Well here's big thanks from me anyway.