34. Building a cycling culture: grassroots activism in Manchester

The ride over, we head for Fallowfield and Platt Fields Park. Manchester has a bike polo team, the Mcr Dropouts, and this is where they practice. Tonight is an open-to-all session, and it provides the backdrop for the rest of us to hang around at the field’s edge, chatting and drinking.

 

As the light gradually fades on the bike polo game, and with the laughter and shouting of the players as accompaniment, I grab the chance to talk with Nes Brierley. I’d watched her riding Critical Mass on a 1970s ladies’ shopper; she was clearly a pivotal figure in the ride, and exudes urban cycling confidence and chic. In her late twenties, Nes is obviously very bright and has masses of energy. Her love of bikes just oozes out, and it’s highly contagious. She’s just organised a bicycle festival, I Bike Mcr, and she tells me about that.

“It basically started because I wanted to do a bike exhibition at the Basement, which is a social centre in Manchester. I wanted to do an exhibition about bicycles. From that I thought we should do loads of events as part of the exhibition. So then I organised it as a sort of festival. It became this I Bike Mcr festival. We had loads of different events. The opening night we had a roller race, which is like an indoor bike race. Loads of people came, maybe 150 people”.

One of the other Massers chips in, “That was one of the best nights the Basement’s ever had. It was really good”.

Nes continues, “Then, as well as that I made a film about cycling in Manchester, called I Bike Mcr. It’s about the different scenes of bikes in Manchester. So we talked to all kinds of people – school children and their mums, students, women and kids who’ve recently immigrated and are keen to cycle, all sorts – about getting around by bike. We did a bit about messengers. Then we did a bit about the velodrome, in which I interviewed Chris Hoy. A bit about my job”.

What do you do?

“Teach kids to cycle. We teach all the schools, youth centres. We teach adults as well, but mostly kids. In primary schools mostly, but we do high schools as well”.

“So I interviewed a few people from my work, and also Sustrans, and the Friends of the Fallowfield Loop. The Fallowfield Loop is basically an off-road cycle track around Manchester. So we talked to the different people and groups involved in promoting cycling in the city. And then we talked to people from the local bicycle industries, like Bicycle Doctor, cycle mechanics”.

“So a lot of people came to the exhibition, because I’d involved so many different groups with the film, that then they wanted to come along and get involved with the festival. So the film was quite a good tool to get people involved in the festival”.

“As part of the festival we had the exhibition. Then we had different things like bike polo, and alleycat, and alleykitten, which is like a crazy bike ride around the city on shoppers and kids’ bikes, which is fun! Then we had a Yo Fixie competition, which involved track stands, and devil takes the hindmost, and sprints and things like that”.

Alleycats, informal urban bike races which involve riding between checkpoints, are popular among messenger communities. I ask Nes whether one exists in Manchester.

“There’s only about a dozen messengers in Manchester. There’s not that many. I’m not a messenger. Everyone calls me a dissenger, because I did it, and I didn’t like it. I’m not a fakenger, because I don’t pretend to be one, I just don’t want to be one. I did it and it was shit. I couldn’t handle the shit pay, and also all the office stuff, being a girl going in all sweaty”.

Nes is clearly at the heart of Manchester’s cycling subculture, a subculture which is spreading fast across the world from its roots in north American cities. Within this world, bikes are intensely cool and central to a new way of living in and experiencing the city. It’s growing in the most car-centric and unlikely of places. In Los Angeles, for example, Midnight Riddaz see bikes as a sensory route to experiencing the city, as a way of being more fully alive in the city.

“Out of the festival”, Nes tells me, “has come quite a lot things. A lot more people seem to be interested in doing bike stuff. We did a pub bike ride, and now that’s turned into doing regular bike rides out into the countryside, stopping off at pubs, hanging out, having a social event. And Critical Mass has been quite big this month”.

People are drifting off. Nes invites them to come again next month, and makes sure they know there’s a bike ride on Sunday, leaving from Glossop train station at noon. Afterwards they’ll go to The Globe, a vegan pub. She tries to assuage some people’s fears that the ride will be too far, or too fast. There’s also going to be more bike polo here tomorrow afternoon.

I ask Nes what makes her organise all this bike stuff.

“I felt there was a lack of bike culture in Manchester, or at least a lack of people getting together and doing bike stuff together. There’s quite a few cyclists, but Manchester isn’t a massive cycling city. If you go to other cities like Oxford you see loads of cyclists all the time. Here, I think a lot of cyclists feel quite isolated, like that they’re the only person that they know who’s a cyclist. When I made the film, that became obvious. A lot of people were saying that the reason they were going on Critical Mass was to meet other cyclists, because they never met any”.

“So I thought it’d be good to have a festival that was just about cycling, to try and build some sort of cycling community. That’s why I wanted to do loads of different events, so we had a family treasure hunt, a bicycle treasure hunt around the city which is sort of a friendly version of the alleycat which was just nice and fun, and then things like bike polo that anyone could get involved in. I just wanted to create a cycling buzz in Manchester really”.

“But surely”, I say, “Manchester’s got a velodrome, loads of big racing clubs. It’s got traditional cycling clubs hasn’t it? Don’t they connect with the things you’re interested in?”

“It’s got roadie clubs, and track clubs. But if you’re not in those cliques, then you don’t really know those people. There’s no place to mix with those people, other than at the velodrome or on one of their rides. And I guess that’s just for hardened cyclists, whereas your everyday cyclist that commutes three miles up the road every day doesn’t get to meet any other cyclists really”.

“Is your enthusiasm for cycling maybe different from those club riders’ enthusiasms? Are you trying to do something different?”.

“Possibly. There is a political reason behind why I do what I do. The reason is because I’d like to see more people on bikes than in cars. I think of Critical Mass in loads of different ways. I think it’s a celebration of the bicycle. But I also think it shows there’s an environmentally friendly way to get around the city, and also a fun way. I just feel cycling’s really fun. I’m sure roadies have loads of fun, and people at the velodrome do as well. But some people might see those things less as fun than as serious sport”.

“How did you get into cycling? Where’s your passion come from?”.

“I’ve only been cycling for about five years, maybe less than that. I went out with a boy who was really massively into cycling. And then, after not very long of going out with each other, we cycled around Ireland together, and it was amazing. And then, I just loved bikes, I just thought they were amazing. So I guess it was that trip around Ireland that just made me realise it’s so liberating to ride a bike”.

I describe my experiences of riding through the middle of Birmingham yesterday, and say that Manchester seems leagues ahead. I saw lots of people riding bikes earlier on, people riding fixed and single speed. Cycling seems cool here.

“There is quite a lot going on. But it is a big city, and if you compare it to somewhere like Cambridge or Oxford, we don’t have that much. When I say bike culture I mean cyclists hanging out, and having bike events that are social events as well as bike events, as well as local clubs going on bike rides”.

I get this. Nes’s vision is broader than painting bike lanes on roads, broader than simply getting more people onto bikes. It’s about transforming social life at the same time as transforming the way we move around. It’s a much fuller, more radical vision of the way the world could be. Cycling is not simply good; it’s also a way of making the world as a whole a better, more humane place.

“I guess I was inspired by Portland in Oregon. They have so many bike events going on all the time, loads of things with loads of people. It’s a massive bike community. There are about five bike events going on there every day. It’s really beautiful, and I guess I felt a bit jealous of that culture, of that level of community really. Because I feel that’s what’s lacking with everyday cyclists, is that sense of community”.

Portland, Oregon feels like the epicentre of this urban cycling renaissance. In Portland, and increasingly elsewhere – although Manchester and London are perhaps the British cities showing the earliest and clearest signs – cycling is fast becoming synonymous with being young, cool, free, alive, alternative, even sexy. Personally I find it hugely seductive and it fills me with intense optimism for cycling’s future.

We talk about Critical Mass. “About a year and a half to two years ago, Critical Mass was about ten people, if we were lucky”.

Nes realised Critical Mass had to be more than a bike ride. Why would someone come all the way into town, or hang around for an hour after finishing work, just to ride around for half an hour? She sensed people were seeking a community, and began to provide opportunities for them to hang out after rides, eating, drinking, watching films, playing bike polo, holding free parties in the woods.

She used to flyer about 400 bikes ahead of each Critical Mass, but that didn’t feel particularly effective, so she’s now done I Bike Mcr stickers, with details of Critical Mass, to put on cycle parking stands across the city. This method is less labour intensive, more visible, and seems to be more effective. She also promotes rides via My Space, “so even though it’s this horrible capitalist thing, owned by Rupert Murdoch, it’s doing us quite well”.

Nes becomes suddenly aware of how much she’s been talking. Her self-consciousness invites the remaining Massers to give her some gentle ribbing, but what’s clear to all of us, I think, is that Nes is a woman on a mission, and for now she’s carrying people with her.

Nes is a different kind of cycling entrepreneur to those I met at Sustrans’ Head Office in Bristol, or to Zsolt in Exeter, but no less a cycling entrepreneur for that. She’s busy creating, innovating and taking risks. She’s striving to build a movement, a culture, to create a new, cycling way of life for her city. What impresses me most about Nes is how she’s motivated by a different agenda to the people paid to promote cycling. Sure, she wants more cycling for solid ethical reasons – because it gets people out of cars and counters climate change. But her fundamental position – and in this she seems to be in tune with her generation –  is that cycling is fun, cool, sexy and revolutionary.

At home in the off-beat, Nes leads a different cycling life. She knows the best cycling documentaries, great films like Ted White’s Return of the Scorchers, which takes a global perspective in extolling the beauties and benefits of cycling. She knows many musicians are writing bike songs. She knows the bands playing music on bike parts, like the local Levenshulme Bicycle Orchestra, as well as the bands who tour by bike. She knows all kinds of people living out their own bike dreams, on bikes. She’s living in perfect time with the global alternative bike scene, and it rocks.

Nes is currently trying to secure funding for a cycling hub. “A lot of the stuff we’ll have there, as well as facilities like showers, changing rooms and work spaces, will be based around people. So we’re going to run lots and lots of courses, like bike maintenance courses. I teach cycling, so we’ll do lots of stuff about trying to raise people’s confidence about riding on roads, adult and child classes, about riding in the city centre, because a lot of people find that quite scary”.

“It’s also going to be a social space as well. So we’re going to have band nights, and bike film nights, and bike rides – we’ll organise a cycle club, and do longer and shorter rides”.

Brilliant. It sounds fantastic, I say.

“It is, but it’s a bit scary. There’s not that many people want to be involved at this stage of the process. The funding bit, I guess people find a bit boring. A lot of people have said that when it’s up and running they’ll be up for helping out. We want to run it as a co-operative and get paid wages. I don’t really want to be cap-in-hand all the time. I want to make it sustainable”.

Nes is also one of The Spokes, Manchester’s all-woman all-bike-loving bicycle dance troupe. Again, the influence is west coast north American. Performing on kids’ bikes, The Spokes aim not only to promote cycling as the sane alternative for a viable planet, and to communicate a love for bikes, but also to challenge especially women’s concerns with appearance, something which stops many from ever giving cycling a go. The Spokes don’t care what they look like, and the irony or paradox is, of course, that this partly explains why they look so good.

So cycling in places like Manchester is being recaptured by youth. It’s very exciting to hear young people talking about bikes and cycling in reverential tones and terms. Sure, this has a lot to do with ‘cool’, with being hip, but that’s how practices get rejuvenated – from youth subcultures, from the ground up. Besides, living through a time of rapid climate change, people like Nes are canaries in the coalmine. With their fingers on the pulse, Nes and her friends are showing the rest of us the way, to a brighter, cycling future.

Nes and countless others like her deserve a standing ovation. In the years to come, we might with luck look back and give them one.

***

It’s much too dark for bike polo now, and almost everyone’s drifted off. Those remaining start talking about going to a club, catching a band. For them, the night is young. I’d really like to keep up. I feel like I’m somewhere between a Famous Five adventure and a Jack Kerouac road trip, and it’s fun. But I’m shattered. Besides, I’m on my own ride, heading in a different direction. Tomorrow I’m 40. I want to get home to see my family. So I say farewell, and leave them to their cycling adventures.

For the second time, but this time by night, I ride ‘the curry mile’ through Rusholme, past the universities, into the city centre, and then out past GMex to Castlefield and the youth hostel. It’s more fantastic than before, non-stop stimulation. One kind of adrenaline-fuelled urban cycling involves mixing it with heavy traffic, total concentration, gritting your teeth and riding hard, and occasional close encounters which come with doses of fear. Although there’s pleasure in that, as a cycling advocate I find it hard to recommend. But this, this is different – this kind of urban cycling is about cruising, sitting comfortably in the saddle which is your seat to the night-time urban spectacle unfolding as you move silently past, a ringside seat to the open-air theatre of metropolitan life.

***

I arrive just after two coachloads of Irish schoolchildren, and it’s chaos. Suddenly hungry, I sit outside, looking over the Bridgwater Canal and scoffing my emergency rations, dried fruit and nuts, until the chaos subsides. A lovely woman checks me in, and informs me (how can she tell?) that if I want beer I should get it now, as the bar’s about to close. I buy two bottles, and once I’ve identified my bunk, disturbing three chaps already sleeping, I find what looks like a quiet spot to unwind, drink, look over maps to figure out tomorrow’s route, and enjoy the last hour of not being 40.

Just then, the room’s invaded by the Irish schoolkids. They’re seriously wired. They’ve also clearly not eaten in ages, the logistics of their adventure have gone awry, and their adult minders are trying desperately to arrange for some takeaway food to be delivered. I’m entranced by the drama. Will the kids stay awake until the food arrives? Will the adults survive without trying to kill each another? But finally I can bear no more, and leave them to their fate.

I tumble, 40 and exhausted, into bed, and sleep.