Tuesday 30 June 2015

Eroica Britannia - Jun 2015

Eroica Britannia June 2015


Eroica. The Italian for heroic. The name given to a cycling event that started over 20 years ago as a few mates cycling around the old roads in the heart of Tuscany on vintage steel bikes, and now attracts over 5,000 riders from across the globe to do the same. It is not a race, more a celebration of cycling, and Tuscany culture. For that reason energy gels and power bars are not present at food stops along the route. Wine, hams, fruit, cakes, breads and olive oil are.

A few years ago four friends from the UK were taking part and on the last night, in a bar, looked at each other and said “This is good”. Another responded, no doubt fuelled by the Chianti, “we should have one in the UK. We’re from the Peak district, we have great roads, the UK is turning to cycling”. And so yet another gem of an idea was born.

Luckily these guys were all businessmen, and so what could have been a typical mates late night boozy chat ended up being executed, and in 2014 the first Eroica UK was run. On exactly the same lines as the Tuscany one. So naturally I had to compare. Stephen and I signed up, and we were good to go. We were a little slow off the mark in entering, and couldn’t find a decent B&B anywhere near Bakewell, the heart of the event. So I proposed we camp.

Stephen was very dubious. He’s not a camper. Even my pointing out the tent was a luxury 4 man one, with blow up mattresses and, more crucially, a few yards from the festival beer tent was not pacifying him. Still, after a few beers I was sure he’d be OK.

Following the Italian Eroica where I’d ridden my dad’s old Raleigh I’d decided to properly refurbish it for this event. While there weren’t going to be inspectors every few bikes, the care and love that riders had put into having their steeds look magnificent had put my ‘wipe it down, put some oil on the chain’ effort to shame.

So after some new bits and elbow grease (mainly from Vincini Cycles, Upminster it has to be said) the old Raleigh looked almost showroom new and I was heartened to hear Stephen had sorted his old Ribble out too after his Italian escapade. This had all the makings of another glorious weekend, involving a beer, wine, bikes and food.

Then a couple of days before going Stephen crashed his bike, breaking his foot. Walking, let alone cycling, was out. Now, while I don’t mind solitude, driving up to the Peak district, riding around alone, then returning without a partner in crime didn’t really appeal.

Luckily, though, I also own a Guv’nor bike, and I knew there were going to be a lot of riders there with the same bike, riding together. So a quick email off to the owners club confirmed that they are not an exclusive group, told me a meeting time and place (by the beer tent no less!) and I was happy.

My next issue to solve quickly was that one cannot ride a 1930’s style path racer wearing lycra, even of the 1970’s vintage. So a quick purchase of some plus4s, appropriate shoes and I was finally ready.

Saturday was a blur. Drove up, sorted the tent, registered, got changed, explored the festival grounds and met the guys at the appointed place. If you like village festivals with stalls selling ‘the best of British’, along with various cycling related bits and pieces, and hearty food, and the most bizarre Hendricks Gin bar, and fun fairs, and dressing up competitions, old fashioned games, and beer tents, and humour, and music then Eroica in Bakewell is for you. If you don’t, well, I guess you won’t be reading this.

Sunday morning came too quickly. I roused, got on my bike, and pedalled off to the start, and met up with the guys ready to cycle 55 miles around the Peak District. Getting back to clothes – most of them were wearing the Guvnors Assembly woollen cycling top, which I must admit looked good. I, however, in my plus 4s and tweed waistcoat, looked different. So I was called Captain Poldark for the duration of the ride. Now whilst I’d like to take that as a compliment it was more likely due to the alcohol intake caused the guys to forget my name. No matter, it could have been worse.

The ride was superb. Mixture of paths and roads, flat and steep. Part of the route followed the Monsal trail, an old railway line that had been converted to a footpath. The food stops were predictably excellent. OK, no Chianti, but there was beer, specially brewed for the event. Of course Bakewell tarts were in abundance.

The ride was also leisurely. The Guv’nor itself does not lend itself to blasting around the countryside, and the group ‘never leaves anyone behind’ whether due to punctures (only a couple suffered) or tiredness (more than a couple suffered).

Chatting to one of the Guv’nors it turned out he’d come from Zurich to take part. Not for him the comfort of a flight, or train. No, he’d jumped on his bike a week earlier, pointed it North by North West and pedalled. A lot. He only had one problem during the ride up. Not owning a mobile he was reliant on payphones to report back home, and they are few and far between these days. And yes, he was pedalling back to Switzerland.

The final feast stop was in the grounds of Chatsworth House. Oh my! The good people of Rapha were on hand to supply us with a glass of champagne, which we downed with some local ice cream and, of course, more Bakewell tarts. As I said, not an energy gel in sight.


And thence back to the festival grounds, to have the obligatory photo, the post ride refreshment (tea and cakes) and relaxation. All too soon the tent was packed up, the bike loaded on the car, and I was back on the motorway.

So how did it compare to Eroica Tuscany? In terms of atmosphere, the ride, the friendliness, the organisation, it was right up there, no question. Except for me, Tuscany is marginally more beautiful than the Peak District and I prefer Chianti to beer so for those reasons Eroica Tuscany wins. Just.

You remember the 4 guys I mentioned at the top of this blog? Well, there was also a small group of Spaniards taking part, who also got talking in a bar. And they too have set up the same event, this time in the heart of Rioja.


And that gives me a thought……..

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