Community Spotlight: Louise's Terrific Triban Adventure

Waiting with my trusty Tiban RC500 for the Dunkirk-Dover ferry I reflected on our four-day Flandrien Odyssey which had seen us battling up the steep cobbled bergs that define the Tour of Flanders, one of the Spring Classics on the pro-peloton calendar. A fellow rider eyed me up and down. “You’ve just done Flanders on … a Triban …?” he asked incredulously. He paused, considered, then nodded, “Fair play!”. Fair play? Odd, because I was never in any doubt that it was the very best bike to join me on my adventure – it had risen to every demand I had asked of it over the previous two years.

The Dun Run, as it is affectionately called, is not an organised event. There is no sign-up form, no chipped time and no entry fee. Instead it has grown informally and organically into a celebration of life on two wheels. Word of mouth says turn up in Hackney on the Saturday evening following the July full moon and when you’ve soaked up the atmosphere of 2,000 other riders mingling at sunset, jump on your bike and ride through the night to the Suffolk coast for a sunrise dip on Dunwich beach. That night was filled with so many firsts – my first ride through London, my first mass participation event, my first night ride, my first 200km ride. Night riding felt magical - other-worldly as we swept through sleeping hamlets, like interlopers living outside the social norms. The roads, empty of cars, were pocketed instead with the endless twinkle of red cycle lights leading the way seaward, and were interspersed with the occasional oasis for tired riders to refuel with bacon sandwiches, cakes, coffee and bananas. As the sun came up I knew my Triban and I had experienced something very special. I felt connected to the bike, my legs were strong and my mind was alive with adrenalin.

Riding continued into Autumn and through the Winter. By the end of 2021 I’d racked up 7,500 kilometres. In that time I’d replaced the wearing parts – chain, brake pads, cables – and moved over to clipless pedals but otherwise the Triban was the same bike that left the shop one year earlier.

A trip on the bike to France to watch a stage of the 2022 Tour de France followed and then I found myself lining up on the start line of Chase the Sun (CTS) South knowing this time that in pursuit of the next cycling high, my bike and I had bitten off more than I could chew. CTS is an achingly romantic concept. At its simplest, the organisers say it is a physical, motivational and navigational endeavour that requires participants to cycle 205 miles coast-to-coast from sunup to sundown; but it is so much more than just a long bike ride. It pits cycling against the backdrop of the immutable universe and asks, ‘Can you ride your bike faster than the sun travels through the sky?’ It celebrates the longest day of the year and glories in you sharing that celebration with 1,200 like-minded romantics. And, of course it would be disingenuous not to mention that it gives you bragging rights to a mighty fine Strava line.

And so back to the Spring 2023 trip to Flanders. We had cycled for four days through the worst weather to hit the Tour of Flanders for 20 years. The incessant rain was fuelled by a brutal three-day storm with winds over 40 knots. In this we had cycled 400km. But what stung far more than the rain was the incredulity from my fellow cyclist that my Triban could possibly have been a sensible choice of bike to embark on this type of brutal endurance riding.

But for me there is no trustier bike to get me safely from A to B; no worthier bike to share my riding journey with.