Throwback: Tandemania

Back to 2007 and issue 35 this week for a dose of classic Matt ‘the old Richard’ Letch. Yes, we’ve run it before, but it’s ace – we reckon it’s well overdue another airing!

Fish Out Of Water: Of A Bicycle Made For Two.

What’s the worst place for a control-freak mountain biker? On the back of a tandem, that’s where. Which is why we put Matt on the back of Tim Carpenter’s tandem and asked them to ride the hilly 70km Howies Dyfi Enduro.

Words by Matt Letch, photos Dave Anderson.

It was all Dave’s idea. He’s always raved on about how ace riding tandem is; how it’s a good laugh and how it’s sociable. It was how he travelled across America, Dave and Sharon with their daughter in a trailer.. It sounded excellent, plus Dave has a horribly persuasive tone. “It’ll be right.” “I did the Polaris loads of times on one, you’ll love it.”

Then there was the bike itself and the owners. The bike is a Cannondale tandem, which I’d actually sold to my friends Tim and Bee while in my previous existence at a bike shop, how could I possibly say no?

However, popping my cherry by doing the 40mile Dyfi Enduro seemed quite harsh, but then how hard could it be? It was only a two person bike after all.

During the week leading up to the event I got various emails of support from Dave; “As you’re my friend, here’s a little tip: wear two pairs of shorts’ and ‘There’s not enough Assos chamois cream in the world…” You get the picture.

The office was another area to be wound up. I’m more than aware why everyone at work thought I should do this Fish out of Water article. I’m known for a small level of control freakery, not in everyday life but in the more mechanical aspects, for instance I really don’t like planes but that’s because I can’t steer them, I would rather drive a car or van however far than be a passenger, and I have been known to lie flat on the floor of cable car and cry out for help when the emergency brake was applied. Handcuffs in the bedroom are not for me (well not on my wrists) The idea of me being dragged down stuff with no control would be a laugh a minute.

But to be honest I did think they were over-egging the whole thing.

That was until I spoke to my friend Craig, ”Tim’s the Captain? Being on the back of that tandem with Tim was the scariest thing I’ve ever done“ This is crash-test-Craig who will happily throw himself down rocks, wet stairs and stuff that a lot of people consider unrideable. How crazy would Tim be?

The traditional pre-Dyfi warm up was the usual affair: mostly drinking.

Before we go any further, a few words on the Howies Dyfi Enduro.. 70km with 8000ft plus of climbing. It’s quite brutal really. The climbs are relentless and then you slither down the other side in another eroded slate chute and it’s the reason I love it. It’s true that the race-whippets can do well there but being able to ride off-road really counts. I normally get around in about 4.5 hours and always feel horribly drained..

So it was off to West Wales on the Saturday afternoon. The traditional pre-Dyfi warm up was the usual affair in the White Lion In Machynlleth, i.e. mostly drinking. Despite the best advice of trainers and athletes the world over, the only way to start the Dyfi Enduro seems to be with a heavy head and an erratic heart rate.

Sunday, bloody Sunday.

The next morning and I’m somehow I’m later to meet Tim than I plan to be (is it subconscious?) but eventually I turn up with my pedals, he looks horribly alert and not beer-poisoned at all, I also seem to have forgotten his instruction to bring my favourite saddle so I’m going to be sat upon a very short nosed women’s specific saddle for the next 70 kilometres.

The initial campsite test seems promising: Pedal! Coast! Stand and lean! Dave is laughing a lot at this and shaking his head (Dave is riding with us to document the ride and to coax me if I have a bad time)

I have that horrible lamb to the slaughter feel.

The beginning of the ride is a few miles of road, with a police escort from the start line in Machynlleth, to the beginning of the trailhead proper, I’m all jovial and everyone loves us, we’re whistled and clapped. I feel quite good and the bike seems to move along OK, albeit a bit slowly relatively to the amount of pedalling we put in (this is it’s default setting as I’m about to find out) but all in all it’s good fun. I even laugh as the Thudbuster whoops away from underneath me. It’s quite funny, like riding an old school full susser.

And then the joy begins, the first climb is long (8km? It feels longer). It’s always been this long, but it feels indescribably long on the tandem. We’re chopping away in the middle ring but we’re not getting anywhere; yes we’re making forward momentum but it’s ponderous to say the least, I’m also feeling a numbness that is arcing out from my groin down to my toes in a quite alarming manner… Well at least the blues music is keeping me going.

The blues music? Nearing the top there’s a long switchback with the last pull to the first summit around the corner, there they were jamming away, I’m starting to hum “I’ve got the numb ball blues.“ But for the time being I’m still enjoying it and I know we’ve nearly crested the first big climb.

The big hilltops and cheerleaders.

Cresting brings joy to my heart as a gaggle of young cheerleaders meet Tim and I, but worryingly do nothing to waken any stirring in me. In fact I feel decidedly strange down ‘there’. I walk off a little way to have an adjustment and find out that I’m already developing a John Wayne stance.

Still, the first hill has gone and there’s a downhill to enjoy ahead. From the top of the climb a longish gravel descent leads into a left hander and then almost immediately into a cracking piece of singletrack. We start to spin down the gravel road and Tim’s clicking through the block and up onto the big ring, this thing really, really shifts! The corner is coming up and there’s no way we’re going to make it! F**k! There is no way at all we’re going round there. None at all, and then we’re round it and hitting the singletrack at superluminal velocities.

Frankly I cack myself. I have no steering and no brakes. We seem to swallow up ground at a furious rate, my leading foot seems to be in the wrong place and I can’t see where bumps are coming up and I have no control whatsoever of Tim’s line choice.

As quickly as we hit the singletrack we’re back on fireroad, and we’ve survived. Tim seems totally unfazed and frankly so is the tandem. From here on in I begin to develop a new theory about momentum, the tandem would hurl itself down stuff in a quite alarming manner (think of a angry rhino with goats’ hooves) but the moment the terrain turned flat it would stop dead without pedal input.

Rather than sitting there like a sack of (neutered) potatoes you can really help…

My theory goes that an object (it may be tandem specific) is given so much momentum in its lifetime. if you use it up quickly in one place you have to replace it somewhere else, namely on hills. The thing sucked at climbing. One full BHP seemed to equate to roughly one quarter BHP applied through tandem cranks.

And so the snakes and ladders began, Tim myself and my worryingly numb genitals would winch our way up another climb as all and sundry breezed by, me trying to think of a way to adjust my position without stopping pedalling or standing up. Once the climb was crested we absolutely flew 400lbs of riders back under control. The joy of being able to stand was indescribable and I started to realise that rather than sitting there like a sack of (neutered) potatoes you can really help, especially turning into sharp corners by hanging into them and shouting out where you were relative to the bike. The downhills were basically the best fun you can have on a bike without being on a full blown world cup downhill bike.

Always another up.

Unfortunately there’s always another up and by the time we reach the feed station I’m seriously concerned for whatever is left of my genitals, being relentlessly beaten by the saddle and the crazy 5in rear-moving seat post. I’m aware that I have sit bones as well.

The feed station is a little over halfway round the course and I have decided I’m in ’til the bitter end.

If I have painted a picture of pain, I’m afraid a lot of it’s true. This isn’t to say that the tandem isn’t fun, put it in the right gear and I think it could ride up anything in the world. The climb away from the feed station is a real pig; rocky, wet slatey steepness with plenty of fallen riders to run over, the tandem just goes up it no fuss at all.

Putting it together on more swoopy singletrack, where your pedal placement counts, is intensely satisfying, and more than rewarding enough to take your mind off the gathering aches from your legs.

We are horribly slow though. So slow that the motorbike course ‘sweepers’ are brushing our rear wheel. We refuse one shortcut to ride singletrack instead, but the climb out nearly kills me. It’s not the climbing as such, it’s the sitting in one position for too long that really gets to me. I can’t stand up and stretch and it starts to obsess me and my increasingly twangy hamstrings.

Cramptastic.

All of sudden I need to get off, I have awesome cramp in my right leg that wants to throw me off the bike but I can’t stop until Tim does. Dave does the best to stretch me out through the giggles and the local undertaker offers me a lift home as long as I keep the noise down. (No, really!)

From here on in it’s survival for me (and for Tim I think) as we winch and winch. I occasionally yelp and occasionally whoop on a downhill stretch but mostly it’s head down and keep going.

Finally the 10km mark appears and I know I’m going to finish, and finish we do with a fantastic descent that sees us overtaking 20 or 30 people only to see them winch us back on the flat (of course).

As we rocket through the finish I’m so elated I forget about the five mile ride home.

The road ride back nearly does for me, I can’t sit down for any more than around 500m now before I beg Tim to let me stand up and stretch my legs and relieve my sit bones.

As the real finish appears I feel quite close to tears if I sit, and then we’re done. People clap, but I feel drained and get off the bike and go and look for my genitals. 6.5 hours and we’re back. I bet we could be quicker next year.

Next year?

Howdohedo?

We asked tandem captain Tim for a critique of Matt’s stoking.

So how good a stoker was Matt?
Matt was a fair bit heavier than my usual stoker Bea, but made up for it with more power, at least at the beginning. He dealt quite well with swapping his leading foot (which is different to
mine) although this probably contributed to his crampy legs towards the end. For a first time on a tandem the Dyfi is probably as hard as it gets and he managed to survive it. One thing though – why didn’t he bring his own saddle?

And when things got technical?
After the initial “Wooooooaaaaarghhh” down the first descent he was a natural, no trying to steer the bike from the back. Obviously he’s quite a good rider because he picked up the knack of leaning for the fast corners and dropping our inside shoulders for the tighter stuff really quickly. He quickly adopted the Tandemist’s shared approach – we’re here for the singletrack and downhills, the uphills are just a means to an end.

Chirpy throughout or did you suffer moments of silence?
It would have been torture without Matt’s enthusiasm for the place and the event itself, he kept chatting. There’s nothing worse than when it goes all quiet at the back. He also showed considerable restraint when people made the usual daft comments ie.’He’s not pedalling!’ Matt would have benefited loads from Belinda’s advice to all tandem stokers – ‘Stand up every chance you get’, shame I forgot to tell him until half way around.

So would you do it again?
Definitely, fitter and stronger next time. My arms were tied in knots by the end of it. My main memory of this year’s event will be both of us giggling like lottery winning idiots at the bottom of every descent, shortly followed by a collective sigh of resignation and the crunch of gears at the sight of the next fireroad climb. Well that and Matt’s enthusiasm for cheerleaders despite his ‘undercarriage’ issues. I reckon we could knock an hour off that time by starting nearer the front of the pack, knowing where I’m going and with Matt fitting a comfortable saddle.

Thanks to Tim for letting us perch Matt on his tandem. And if you want to see where Tim gets his skills we can heartily recommend a bike holiday with Tim on his home turf around the Cheviots and Northumberland. Get along to northumberlandbikebreaks.com Tandems welcome but not compulsory.