someday, somewhere

Rapha’s Supercross series visited Nobeyama last weekend, Japan’s highest town, nestled in the Yatsugatake Mountains at an altitude of 1,345m. Now in its seventh year, the event began with fresh snow and freezing temperatures and ended in torrential rain for the UCI Elite races, where the mud became so deep even the strongest were challenged in two days of some of the most entertaining bike racing on the planet.

The deeply-frozen ground of Nobeyama meant the earth needed to be drilled in order to build the barriers. The icy surface made for a precarious course for the early morning categories, but within a few hours temperatures began moving closer to zero and the first signs of mud emerged.

Hardy riders from all walks of life raced in some of the harshest conditions over the weekend. The unique environment of Nobeyama provides an amazing stage for Supercross, where an office worker from Tokyo can race alongside some of the world's finest in the sport.

The Yatsugatake Mountains offer a continuous backdrop from all angles of the course. As temperatures dropped later in the day, puddles began to freeze, making the course unreadable, even by the most experienced racers.

Racers from overseas are always well represented, and this year riders from the US, Australia and Canada. The Athletic’s Jeremy Dunn raced single speed on the first day, then as he was "already here” decided to race against geared bikes on day two. Cheering from the locals of “Ganbare JD” kept him churning through the mud, passing other riders and finishing alongside Digoro, friend and fellow Rapha Continental rider.

Food is taken seriously in Japan, and catering teams travelled from all parts of the country to provide a wide selection of hand-prepared choices for riders and spectators. Due to the local climate, Nobeyama is said to produce Japan’s sweetest cabbages, lettuces and corn. Fresh local vegetables were also being sold alongside various other dishes.

Although Nobeyama is a UCI categorised race, the children's races are equally important – from the more competitive junior race to the kindergarten event where parents play an equal part in getting the racers to the finish line.

As the rain came and temperatures rose on the second day, so too did the mud – even by late morning conditions were beginning to get treacherous for the riders. Wipeouts occurred on most corners and the deeper, thicker sections of mud were also bringing down a high percentage of the racers.

By the time the UCI Elite races were getting started, the drizzle had become a downpour. Riders forced through the mud where possible, then ran when pedals became too heavy.

Rapha's Head of Japan, Daisuke Yano has been organising this race for the past seven years, the countless hours he puts in together with an amazing team and family atmosphere are evident in the UCI status and continuous growth year upon year. Not only managing things over the whole weekend but racing amongst some of the worlds best in the UCI Men's Elite race.

Although the temperature on the second day was milder, the constant biting rain robbed riders of their core body temperature. Heart rates increased with the intense effort but with every lap the heavy mud that covered them only added to the severity of the cold. After the race, shivers quickly set in - the only refuge a nearby catering truck with warm water, possibly the best shower you could ever experience.

Waka Takeda placed just outside the podium on day one of the race. On the second day as fatigue set in and the downpour came, she slogged through the heaviest mud and truly epic conditions to finish 2nd.

Deciding to travel light with only one bike for an Elite Men’s final in the toughest conditions in Japan is not usually a winning formula. After puncturing 30 minutes into the race Garry Millburn commandeered his wife Fiona's bike until he could get his own back from the pit, finally catching the leaders on the final lap before making his move for victory.

Possibly the toughest Prestige in Japan to date took place over the weekend in the remote mountainous area of Kamikatsu, Tokushima, on the island of Shikoku. Famous for it's unspoiled mountainous landscape and zero waste mission.

With a contrast of falling cherry blossoms, almost 4,000 meters of climbing and the longest gravel road in Japan, the punishing Tsurugi-san Super Rindo

Thirty five teams from across the globe pushed themselves to and beyond their limits on the beautiful but punishing course with only seven finishing, the last making their way back after dark along the mountain trail under the safe watch of Land Rover headlights.

Riding a handmade bicycle is something special; riding a steel frame made with your own hands takes things to an entirely different level. Tsuyoshi Ishizu, Japanese frame builder, rode from Osaka to Tokyo with his 10-year-old son to test one of his latest creations.

When I first met Tsuyoshi Ishizu I knew very little about his handmade bike project, Biwakoguma. His introduction to steel frame building, I later discovered, was partially circumstantial due to skills he already possessed as an artist working with metal.

Four years ago he decided to return to cycling after a long absence, signing up to the Mount Hiei hill climb race before he even had a bike to begin training. While waiting for a bespoke frame to be made, he was told it wouldn’t be ready in time for the race, so it was suggested that he build the frame himself.

Igniting a new passion for cycling, this experience formed the beginnings of team Biwakoguma, which is made up of local cyclists who all ride frames built with their own hands at Tsuyoshi’s workshop. The bikes definitely have a classic appearance, which is down to Tsuyoshi’s personal taste. He also prefers down tube shifters for their connection to the physical mechanics of changing gear, especially for his son. It's his belief that by beginning with this classic gearing method, young riders have a stronger connection to how things work, important at an early age when you could easily be bamboozled by the convenience of modern shifters.

Over the summer Tsuyoshi planned to cycle from Osaka to Tokyo with his ten year old son Tetsutaro (meaning, ‘steel boy’). Beginning at the Rapha Cycle Club Osaka the pair’s adventure would take them close to 650 kilometres across Japan, with 6,000 meters of climbing. Preferring the experience of traveling light while cycling, they brought the bare minimum: a single change of clothes, basic tools, a phone, and money. Road riding gives you a feeling of lightness and freedom to escape, so why burden yourself with a heavy load.

The immediate goal was to get off the urban roads as soon as possible: the constant lights and continuous traffic aren’t ideal conditions when you're riding with a ten year old. After a series of back streets and underpasses, it wasn't long before we were rolling along the Yodogawa River, passing early morning fishermen and school children just beginning football practice.

Midway through the first day arriving at the south shore of Lake Biwa, we stopped for a short bento lunch at the roadside in Ōtsu. Both riders looked like there was little left in their tanks, and I was concerned whether they would make it through the hot afternoon. The temperature made the continuous slog close to unbearable.

The second day was longer and higher – 160 kilometres with 1,542 meters of climbing. It was obvious in their faces this was no easy ride, and as they climbed to higher altitudes it was still violently hot. The forest helped abate a little of the sun’s heat as it danced through the leaves – more so than the countless open rice fields we passed earlier that morning when leaving Maibara. As night slowly approached, the quieter back roads that would lead to their beds were almost silent now, only occasionally illuminated by seemingly random streetlights.

The third day was the most punishing by far. Yatsugatake is a truly devastating landscape with over 2,200 meters of climbing, including the challenging Shiojiri Pass - immortalised in so many Ukiyo-e prints. At this point my respect for Tetsutaro reached new heights, the sheer grit of a quiet 10-year-old boy progressing through this kind of landscape on two wheels was inspiring.

This wasn’t the first time Tsuyoshi had cycled to Tokyo. Since building his first frame, he’s ridden the distance as a test with each new bike, spending time with his creations, feeling the life in the material, and trying to understand it. This time was different – although he was riding something new, the journey was also about riding together with his son. This was both an adventure and a learning experience for Testutaro, and an important memory for both of them.

The final day was planned to be a slightly easier route, covering 80 kilometres from Chichibu to Tokyo. As the green trees and expansive agrarian landscape gives way to concrete, miniature tea farms, and other small holdings sandwiched between main roads and highway bridges, it gradually becomes clear that you’re entering the edges of a city. For me it was a welcome return home, but for Tetsutaro - his first time cycling into the capital after such a major experience in his life - it was monumental. The pace relaxed as they made their way towards Harajuku Station, passing Kenzō Tange's iconic Yoyogi National Gymnasium and on to the Rapha Cycle Club Tokyo. I’m not sure if it was the emotion of completing such a ride, but the pressure of arriving seemed a little too much for the small boy, who seemed more at home on his bike in the mountains. So many emotions in such a short space of time: suffering, exhilaration, fear, pleasure and pain.

As monsoon season began to express itself in its simplest form, cyclists gathered in the remote village of Toyota to indulge in food and tough hills. For the first time, the Gourmet Century was held in Japan with Circles’ help.

Eager attendees arrived at the crack of dawn, not wanting to be late to this much anticipated event, which had sold out in a record thirty minutes. Shinya Tanaka was the prominent figure behind the scenes, having formed a formidable relationship with the Chris King crew through his internationally renowned cycling community in Nagoya.

At 7:30 am, the smell of croissants and pressed coffee wafted through the dewy air to groans of empty stomachs. As riders finished their early morning buffet, the atmosphere began to bubble as they geared up for the road ahead.

The group set off on the first, and what would be the toughest stretch of the course: a constant climb of 3000 feet. Whether participating alone or with a group, the Century is not a competitive event, though participants did compete over how early they had had to wake up to arrive on time. In the case of the Gourmet Century, the event simply brings together people with common interests of food and bicycles, enabling people to foster new relationships or strengthen pre-existing ones. At the end of the day, cycling is the only winner. Read more.

Photography: Lee Basford | Writing: Kaz Fushimi | This photo story was originally published by Terasu, to view the complete story and series of photographs visit Terasu.

March 11th will mark the fourth year since the east coast of Japan was devastated by a tsunami. Unsurprisingly, given the scale of the disaster, the people of the Tohoku region are still rebuilding.

One of the cities in the region most affected was Rikuzentakata. Fifteen-metre high waves destroyed homes, buildings and lives, and what remains now is an overwhelming emptiness. Rikuzentakata was noted for its tree-lined coast, regarded as among the most beautiful landscapes in Japan. Tragically, after the disaster, only one of its 70,000 trees remained standing. It became known as ‘the miracle pine’. These days it’s miles of conveyor belts that follow the coastline, a sight in itself, snaking mechanically in and out of the distant mountains, from where they transport rocks to rebuild the land that was washed away.

One of the few remaining buildings that will be preserved as a memorial.

Since the Rapha Continental shot a film in the region, in 2012, there’s been an annual ride in Tohoku, organised by Daisuke Kitayama, the film’s director, and Seiichi Watanabe, a Continental rider. With another anniversary approaching, I travelled there with friends recently, both to ride and pay our respects. I’d been to Tohoku before, a few months after the tsunami struck, to take aid and supplies. The scene then was shocking; debris, twisted cars and remnants of what used to be homes.

The hunt for victims was still taking place. In the distance, officials in white hazard suits carefully worked in the rain to find lost souls – an unforgettable image.

Evidence of the disaster is everywhere. Most of the areas affected have been neatly flattened to make way for new construction. Many people, including the elderly, still live in temporary housing and, with no chance of employment, younger folk have been forced outside the region. The problems are serious and ongoing, but largely forgotten by the media and government as they turn their attentions to the Olympic Games – due to be hosted by Tokyo in 2020 – and more positive news.

The first day’s riding, in what is a very mountainous region of the country, opened up after a couple of miles, with a climb that came as a surprise to everyone except our guide, Mitsukuni. The Hakone Pass has sections where the gradient rises above 20%, and the 40-minute ascent through the dense treeline, experiencing sights and smells that fed the senses, was an intense wake-up. Arriving at the summit, the view revealed the beauty of the region. Looking down over the Hirota Peninsula and out to the Pacific Ocean, the area that once was Rikuzentakata City was a patchwork of flattened amber shades among the verdant green of the highlands. With the peninsula largely submerged in the wake of the tsunami, some areas effectively became islands, and for days survivors had no electricity or means of communication. The only drinking water was from mountain run-off.

Descending, we made our way north along the undulating coast to the site of Ofunato City, once a thriving fishing hub but where now few buildings remain. Passing shipping containers, we were told these had been tossed like toys on to the shore as the force of the water drove everything inland. A little further along, a huge concrete plant loomed. Corroded by sea air and badly damaged by the quake, it was at least still operating.

We ride in and out of the saddle, maintaining a tempo along the meandering coastline and then further inland, to more secluded backroads surrounded by dense forest. There’s a welcome change in atmosphere as unkempt roads transform into dirt paths, which we climb until we are forced to abandon our bikes, and we walk on to discover a waterfall and ancient wooden shrine. We retrace our route back to the road to regain our original pace, following a river that takes us up above the Ryori Dam, a spectacular sight. Watching this great expanse of water with no one around, it’s hard to connect these tranquil green forests with the violence once unleashed by nature just a short ride away.

After navigating the coastline in the early evening light, we approach the location of the house Mitsukuni grew up in. We spend the evening cooking on the patio, with members of the family from all generations. All were evacuated from their homes when the tsunami hit, and for days the family didn’t know who had survived. Mitsukuni was working in Tokyo and unable to reach them for three weeks. It was a dark time.

In the morning, after a very satisfying breakfast and overwhelming hospitality, we headed south to circumnavigate the peninsula and the Ono coast, where beautiful sandy beaches were once full of swimmers. Around this area, Mitsukuni tells us, the tsunami reached some of its highest points, leaving cars stranded on top of tall buildings and boats wedged among the branches of trees.

We make our way along gravel roads and through more evergreen woodland. It’s a steep trail, one seldom attempted by cyclists, and leads to the Kurosaki Senkyo Observatory. We view the Pacific coastline with waves silently crashing against the jagged outcrops and climbing further still, to heights the water level failed to reach, there’s a glimpse at what was lost; small hamlets with neat cottage gardens, pristine farmland and the aroma of wood fires.

We descend into a wasteland of terracotta soil, eventually leading us back to Rikuzentakata City. Once with a population of 22,000, Rikuzentakata now feels almost deserted. We head towards the location of the miracle pine as conveyor belts carry rocks overhead. On the way we stop by the Yagisawa Shoten café and sample their unusual, but tasty, soy sauce ice cream. Yagisawa Shoten is a 200 year-old company whose storehouse and factory was swept away in 2011. It’s testament to the people here that the company regrouped and rebuilt its factory in Rikuzentakata. Despite what was lost in the city, there’s an in-built strength and optimism in everyone I meet. The people in this region are keen for outsiders to visit, to bear witness and, more importantly, to ensure they are not forgotten.

In its early stages, the road that leads out from Lake Matsubara on toward the Yatsugatake mountain range is nondescript as far Japanese country roads go, but to a foreign eye almost every faded detail has something.

Away from this, the road would take me on a long series of climbs eventually summiting at the Okawara pass at around 2100 meters. I'd experienced the amazing mountains of this region through the eyes of others but never in reality and after witnessing the abundance of intriguing back routes and gravel roads my main concern was that my route would be far too normal, too civilized.

As the road ahead began to rise the strong smell of evergreen consumed me – spending most of my time in Tokyo it’s easy to forget the smells, sounds and sensations out there to be experienced, nature can feel so much more intense when it doesn’t form part of your everyday. The range itself intersects Japan’s Northern and Southern Alps, equal in scale but somehow more moody than it’s neighbors. I was told there could be a little snow still around in the mountains and as I climbed higher there were small but impressive remnants of winter that in retrospect seem absurd. Although for the most part it was a clear and sunny day, ascending the final few hundred meters there was a subtle fog and a light rain coming in as the temperature dropped the change in air pressure was palpable – a motorcyclist that passed a little earlier was awkwardly turning his heavy tourer around telling me the road ahead wasn't possible. I should probably have listened but the idea of going back along the same road wasn’t something I was considering.

Hiking across the two feet of snow covering the road ahead of me without any reference points, it was difficult to sense if what I was doing was dangerous or not – it didn’t feel dangerous, but the sense of inexperience and an unknown road ahead added to my nervousness as I passed through rain, wind, sun, and snow experiencing a whole spectrum of sensations until the snow eventually began to fade as the altitude decreased. On the decent I was finally able to get back on the bike and even though the road was littered with rocks and other debris it wasn’t long until I could build up some speed and begin to take in the amazing scenery as I followed the meandering switchbacks beaming. It was after about 10 km of pure joy that I realised with the disorientation the snow had caused I’d missed a vital turn that would have taken me home. An adrenaline fueled climb back up through the storm took me further into the snow than I’d hoped, the road I was trying to find mostly covered by another snow drift. I pushed ahead hoping that what appeared on the map as a simple route back toward the lake would become another clear decent after this initial belt of snow. Unfortunately this thin ribbon of road became increasingly wild, even after a small glimmer of hope when a gravel trail started to emerge the road began to climb again and the snow returned; gravel / snow / gravel / snow / fallen trees / snow / overgrowth / water, it continued with conditions progressively deteriorating. The road was still increasing in altitude and becoming overgrown with vegetation, the snow and mist increasing, I could see no tracks from anything other than small unknown animals, at this point things were beginning to get scary.

Taking some time to pause was probably the best decision I made that day, pushing forward in the hope of better conditions seems to be the human default that often ends in disaster. Checking back more carefully on my GPS, the road would actually rise at least another 500 meters and with conditions unknown I made the decision to turn back and head for a previous route which led to another trail and an obvious descent that would hopefully take me to some kind of normality. When the snow did finally begin to decrease what emerged was more than a gravel road, oversized rocks made even rolling virtually impossible, especially with road tires. Through a combination of walking and riding I covered about 15 kilometers with the occasional hope that the road would become smooth, only to be forced back to walking. It's surprising that I got as far as I did without a puncture, but it was bound to happen, this road was extreme and more suited to a mountain bike. At least by the time I did get a flat I'd made it back into to the sun, so taking time to remove my wheel gave me chance to rehydrate and check my phone for a signal – nothing. Some hikers passed by at this point with optimistic smiles, there was still a long way to go however and I had no idea when the trail would start to become road. Juggling the decision to ride the rocky path with only one spare tube was tricky, the vibrations and possible damage of going downhill on a road bike against the slow awkward gait of cycling shoes with stiff carbon soles that were becoming more disfigured with every step.

After another hour of this painful descent the first farmhouse I saw in the distance would mark what was an end to the trail and the beginning of a beautifully smooth road that ran through small fields and farmland. Above there was a clear blue sky and eventually a ringing phone which meant I was within reach and could explain why I was so many hours late. There was still over 15 km of road between here and home but the sense of relief was staggering, even though the road soon became harsh and uneven with speeding trucks and cars forcing me into the gutter, the adventure was over. Once the adrenaline from the mountain had subsided I was completely spent, emotionally and physically, the final 5 kilometers a long and steep series of slow climbs felt like they would never end, but they did.

Rapha's interactive Data Print window is now live at their Tokyo Cycle Club. The generative visualisation is constantly evolving, translating the movement of passing pedestrians and cyclists in to realtime imagery.

Collaborating with London-based design studio Convivial Project the creative team at Rapha have produced this generative interactive window display for the Cycle Clubs in both Tokyo and London as part of a cross platform campaign for their recent Pro Team Data Print range, the visuals originated from fragmentations of the Data Print created by Accept and Proceed in London. Rapha's art director, Jack Saunders explains,

The graphic is an abstracted interpretation of data created from the physical effort of a professional cyclist – its shape is a direct product of movement.

Rapha Racewear Innovation: Pro Team Data Window Installation in London

Tracking devices were used to record passing cyclists and pedestrians, whose actions are then analysed and reinterpreted into live visuals in the window.

To call Oki Tatsuya a bicycle messenger doesn’t really do justice to a man who’s been at the heart of Tokyo’s urban bike scene since the end of the nineties. Lee Basford caught up with him late one night in Tokyo.

You have a life that’s immersed in bike culture, how did you first get started?

In the beginning it was BMX, but that led to other things because I loved discovering new worlds, I was constantly thinking about small journeys, either by foot or by bike – finding the next train station, the next town, wanting to reach the end of the river or cycle to the ocean – always wanting to see something new. Our family moved to the country just as I was starting junior high school, which was great as I found new friends who loved touring, mountain biking, camping and fishing. Sometimes we’d camp and ride – I was about fifteen then. This led to working to get money for new bike parts or camping gear, I worked really early in morning as a paperboy to fund my obsession. After graduating high school I wanted to ride further, for longer than a day, but for this I needed money, so I worked almost every day; In the early morning as a newspaper boy and at the weekend either at a moving company or building contractor. These jobs were good for me, working with older people at the moving company I learned a lot about respect and manners. The building contractors too, they were a highly skilled team building traditional houses and restaurants – even though everyone worked well as a team they were all very independent and had their own unique skills.

How did all of this lead you to become a messenger in Tokyo?

While I was at university I had a lot of part time jobs, all kinds of things. By the time I was twenty-one I was looking for something new, I still had a love for traveling so I decided to become a motorcycle courier in Tokyo. But getting to the city it was unbelievably disappointing to see these couriers, they had no style at all, it just wasn’t cool. While I was walking around I kept noticing bicycle messengers, which was a revelation to me, so I did some quick research and called T-serv, one of the two messenger companies in Tokyo that were established in 1989. When I started in 1997 there were about 50 messengers, all young and crazy with energy to burn, but compared to now that number’s pretty small. After the movie ‘Messenger’ came out in 2000 it really boomed in Tokyo and by 2007 there were about 500 messengers here.

You’re currently operating for the messenger company ‘Courier’ in Tokyo?

I work as a messenger at Courier, the owner is Katz, a legendary Tokyo messenger who started in the early 90’s. These days I mainly work as a dispatcher and dealing with accounts and other jobs. When things are very busy though I ride; a full day as a messenger would be about 80km of riding and 4km walking. If I spend half a day in the office and the rest on the bike I’d cover around 40km.

And you still find time to be a producer of The Bicycle Film Festival in Tokyo?

I’m a co-producer at the Bicycle Film Festival (BFF) along with Satoshi Ichiyanagi from the fashion company Alexander Lee Chang. The film festival has been in Tokyo since 2005 with various people involved since the beginning, now there’s a core team of 5-7 people and between 15-20 people who help out with the event, we’re all volunteers. I do most of the work in the evening after I’ve finished my courier work.

You also said you were involved with Sugino in the early days of messenger culture in Japan.

Around 2005 I met Kozo Sugino the CEO at that time, he was really interested in messenger culture and introduced me to a lot of people, one of them organised track events at the Keiokaku Velodrome where they hold some of the biggest Keirin races in Japan. It’s pretty much unheard of for people outside of the sport to be allowed on the track but here we were able to ride together with track racers. Some messengers joined us, so we started training to ride in the velodrome. I guess fixed bikes were becoming very popular as part of street culture at that time and Keirin sensed that.

I guess fixed bikes were becoming very popular as part of street culture at that time and Keirin sensed that

Sugino is one of few companies certified to make NJS parts, mainly cranks, chain rings and bottom brackets. Kozo Sugino not only reinvented his own company but also helped other NJS manufacturers like Nitto, MKS, Gran Compe and others. I was introduced to a lot of people in the bike industry through him too, I think they sensed what was happening in street and fashion culture and the ‘NJS Boom’ and wanted to be part of it.

He can be singled out as one of the people responsible for the street bicycle trend here, sharing feedback from the street with the other manufacturers but also listening to fashion tastemakers who didn’t particularly understand bikes but encouraged him to collaborate with fashion companies, making limited edition parts and colours across the range of products. He also had a hand in progressing the export of NJS parts.

He’s done so many great things for the Japanese bicycle industry, like Daisuke from Rapha, he’s always creating something new, looking to the future and developing a strong cycling scene that goes hand in hand with the products they’re selling. In a similar way, through the messenger community and BFF Tokyo we’ve connected with so many different groups of people, I really want to use this diversity to create a strong Tokyo bike community.

You’re good friends with Daisuke Yano of Rapha Japan?

I help out with all kinds of things with Rapha here. I met Daisuke in 2007 at the ‘Chie Matsuri’ messenger event in Kyoto and somehow ended up on the same team as him in one of the events – we’ve been friends ever since. He had only recently started things with Rapha in Japan and was still working part time at CatEye. Later that year, while I was in London on the way to the Cycle Messenger World Championships (CMWC) in Dublin he set up a meeting with Simon Mottram for me and some friends to interview and photograph him for a Japanese cycle magazine called BicycleNavi. We were in London for three days and we met Simon at the original Imperial Works in Kentish Town over the weekend – we were the only people there. I remember the place was impressive, but it wasn’t huge and the office and storage space were all in one room. After this trip, through Daisuke, we asked Rapha to be one of the sponsors of the Bicycle Film Festival in Tokyo. We collaborated producing some very limited cycling caps for the event in 2008 and in 2009. We also screened two movies by Brian Vernor as well as an exhibition of his photographs from the Rapha Continental Rides, in collaboration with Paul Smith.

I was surviving on only 3 hours sleep a night, tough times but all worth it.

You brought the Cycle Messenger World Championships to Japan too?

In 2005 the Cycle Messenger World Championships had just taken place in New York and the first Tokyo Bicycle Film Festival (BFF) was that year too. I’d organised small races and events, and been looking for a chance to organise larger messenger events too. My friend Gogo and I gathered support from companies, local shops and friends and we managed to hold the CMWC in Tokyo. We formed the Tokyo Bike Messenger Association (TKBMA) which had 17 members at its peak. There was so much to deal with, so many forms to submit to government organisations; the Ministry of Economy, Trade & Industry, Tokyo Prefecture Council, the Metropolitan Police Department, not to mention negotiating with sponsors day and night, and still working as a messenger when I could. Courier really supported me – it was a huge commitment, for almost six months I was surviving on only 3 hours sleep a night, tough times but all worth it.

Following a circuit around the reclaimed island of Obdaiba, passing the Gundam statue and witnessing familiar parts of the city for the first time on two wheels, Bonsai Cycle Works was the last stop on my first ride in Tokyo. An unexpected experience hidden away in a leafy backstreet of Shibuya, it was a bike shop but rather than the smell of grease and tires the aroma of coffee and freshly baked muffins completely threw me as we entered.

The store was started by Hideo Yoshida in 2011 after seven years at a large, well established Tokyo bike shop which provided him with the training and experience needed to follow his own path. Bonsai is very different, with more the feeling of a bespoke tailors where you can build a relationship together over time, getting a very individual service, which in many ways makes sense since he originally studied at the famous Bunka Fashion College in Shinjuku. The interior combines traditional elements with carefully selected industrial fittings, successfully merging the worlds of the tailor and bicycle workshop. Although not directly working in fashion now, subtle indications like the mannequins used for displaying clothes and even his own sartorial style show signs that he still has a love for fashion. Through Bonsai Astronautics, their own team and brand, you can see the influences come through in the designs they create, heavily influenced by the famous Tailor Caid in Shibuya of whom he’s a regular customer.

The interior combines traditional elements with carefully selected industrial fittings, successfully merging the worlds of the tailor and bicycle workshop

To some extent this is also true of many of the bikes he builds which are often customised to be completely unique to the owner, not only with rare parts but also in the colour schemes which are often hand detailed to match, customers can order hand made frames from builders like Independent Fabrication and Speedvagen to their own colour and size specifications. Yoshida’s personal bikes take this detailing to a new level, something akin to the yellow jersey rider in the Tour de France, where every part, including the colours on the helmet and sunglasses are painstakingly coordinated.

The noticeable difference from other cycle stores upon entering is immediately the café which was always part of Yoshida’s vision. There are many cafés for cyclists, but very few where you have the opportunity to enjoy high quality coffee from an Italian espresso machine while your bike is being serviced. It’s run by Natsuki, Yoshida san’s wife — also a committed rider and professional barista responsible for the amazing muffins and other good things freshly baked on the premises. The café also acts as a base for their cycling team members and something of a salon atmosphere for frequent customers, the majority of whom are local or from within Tokyo — although there are some who visit from outside the city or even other countries, generally cyclists with a more visual sense who share a similar outlook to Yoshida.

Like many cycle shop owners I’ve met, Yoshida is also a serious rider himself, beginning in his early 20’s while he was a messenger in Tokyo, he trains for road and cyclocross races throughout the year, his belief is that if he sells bikes made for racing, he should be racing himself — and he’s fast, the Bonsai team came second in this years Rapha Gentleman’s race in Kyoto which is nothing to be sniffed at.

One of the things that intrigued me early on was Yoshida-san’s unique personal blog that combines his thoughts with images and a kind of poetic musing which bring together cycling, art and the everyday which he explains are just his ideas spilling out, he doesn’t think too much about them or their style, he lets it all come out naturally. And the name? Rather than the familiar Japanese term used to describe the art of miniature potted trees (which most people would think), it’s actually a combination of the French for good (Bon), and the Japanese word for rhinoceros (Sai), which comes from their iconic mascot, the good rhino that you can see in the store, on their cap designs, coffee cups and anything else they produce.

This story first appeared on NowhereFast.cc

It’s been two years since the search began to find a location for Rapha’s long awaited Tokyo Cycle Club. This city is big, busy and expensive, so finding the right place was never going to be an easy task and certainly not something that could be rushed — it had to be right. During this time various areas were considered, each with their own merits, but none quite right. It was last March when a place was found, contracts were signed and work began on the new club.

Located on a quiet street in the Kita-Sando area of the city, walking distance from the high-fashion district of Omotesando and more street oriented Harajuku, it’s also just a short bike ride from other major areas like Shinjuku and Shibuya. The doors opened for the first time on the 25th of July, just in time for the closing stages of the tour, with the first club ride around the lakes of south west Tokyo planned to coincide with the final stage, most riders heading back to the club to watch until the early hours.

Similar to the other Cycle Clubs Rapha has already established in cities around the world, it’s designed to be an inspiring destination for cyclists, not only selling the latest Rapha products, there are Cycle Club items limited specifically to Tokyo, live screenings of all major races, exhibitions and a full service café located on the first floor as you walk through the door. Together with a barista serving speciality coffee from Mict, a family business in Toyama, there’s a chef preparing regionally unique food, natural drinks and baking on the premises.

The drinks themselves are all handmade; traditional ginger ale and a selection of fruit infused drinking vinegars that have a wide range of health benefits dating back to feudal Japan, when samurai would carry the drink into battle as a tonic to combat exhaustion. With future plans to create rider specific menu items with natural ingredients taken from both Scratch Labs and the Team Sky chefs, it’s clear that the café plays a central roll in the function of the club.

The Cycle Club is open seven days a week, most days until 8pm, but if a race is being screened the club will stay open until it finishes.

If you lock your bike in the wrong place for too long in any Japanese city you are probably going to get a ticket slapped on it informing you that it will be removed at a later date. For the unfortunate, once they’re taken, any unclaimed bicycles will only be kept for a limited time before being recycled or worse, destroyed. About 85% of Japanese own bikes so there’s a lot of them around and a constant supply for the bike police.

I’d heard about Japan’s bicycle recycling program through a friend who knew I was looking for a less precious daily alternative to my road bike. In Tokyo these places are specific to the area of the city that you live in, ours is an un-signposted and unglamorous grey council building that feels a bit like an old empty school. The Minato-ku Bicycle Recycling Department is made up of a team of three bike lovers, all part of the cities Silver Human Resources, an organisation made up of retirees who love what they do and want to keep on sharing their knowledge and experience, whether its with bikes or anything else. This team is led by Tomita-san who began the project by himself 14 years ago and to date, they’ve recycled over 4000 bikes that would have otherwise been destroyed.

In the workshop, they’re surrounded by the most amazing stacks of replacement parts spanning two rooms; there’s a table overflowing with saddles, underneath it seat posts, a corner with rows of wheels, brake cables hanging in bunches from the ceiling waiting to be used again, its almost endless. The place itself is very organised as are most things in a country where space comes at a premium, their tools are neatly arranged next to a selection of tubs filled with valve caps, cable adjusters and other small salvaged parts you wouldn’t normally think twice about keeping. They sort through the confiscated bikes made available to them, making a limited selection of 100 or so that will be sold on the second Sunday of every month, dialing them in using parts from other re-claimed bikes. Here everything is recycled, they take pride in the fact that they are self sufficient and never have to buy anything new.

Custom made spray booth.

They took me through the process where they completely strip the bike, replacing broken or damaged parts, often respraying individual pieces in a makeshift multipurpose booth (made from an old bicycle basket, wheels, mudguards a chain and various other bits and pieces) mixing paint to match the original colour and finally reassembling it as if it were almost new. Prices range from ¥7,400 to ¥8,900 for standard mama-chari bikes which form the bulk of what they recycle, the workhorse of daily life here whether its carrying heavy shopping or balancing up to three children to and from school. Everything else is deemed non-standard (road, suspension, folding) which they usually select a handful of and auction them off in a game of Jan-ken-pon (rock, paper scissors) for roughly the same price, but with these there’s no guarantee if anything goes wrong. If you’re fortunate enough to go there at the right time, in theory you could get a very expensive road bike for next to nothing.

The place itself is very organised as are most things in a country where space comes at a premium, their tools are neatly arranged next to a selection of tubs filled with valve caps, cable adjusters and other small salvaged parts

In my hunt for a daily bike I spotted a very nice and virtually new single-speed they were going to strip for parts, exactly what I needed for getting around on and realistically the only bike there I had any interest in. It was a fixed gear and therefore illegal to use on the roads, so they couldn’t sell it in the auction. I knew it was a simple job to convert and tried to persuade them to sell it to me. Initially they refused, they’re a government supported organisation and could get shut down for selling a bike like that if there was ever an accident (bikes here have an ID number tying them to a registered owner), but I was persistent and went back a couple of times to chat and prove that I was serious and loved bikes as much as they did. It took time and patience but eventually after making the relevant calls they agreed to trust me and let me have the bike at the beginning of the coming month, no guarantees, no stripping and rebuilding, it was all down to me with this one. I wouldn’t have it any other way though, there’s a rare pleasure in building a bike yourself, something I’ve enjoyed since I was fourteen, I think they sensed that which is maybe why they invited me back again anytime I needed spare parts or advice.

For eight years X-ray Sexysushi has been photographing life as it takes place around him, travelling the world, arbitrarily connecting with locals where the common language of bikes and beer goes a long way. During that time he’s worked with Cog Magazine, Hidden Champion, Loop, Oakley and a selection of other publications around the globe. He’s created a T-shirt with Futura Laboratories and worked with Max Leonard and Andrew Edwards on the book Fixed: Global Fixed-Gear Bike Culture.

With information and photography moving so fast these days he decided it was time to put down something concrete and share all of these experiences in one place. The outcome, Sneaking With Eyes Number One Shut, the current exhibition at Good People & Good Coffee’s gallery SPACE in Nakameguro, a hub for creatives and riders alike. There are photographs taken on both digital and film cameras, but to him that’s missing the point, the medium you use to record the image isn’t what’s important, but that fact that you were there to record something that could only exist right then, at that time, individual layers of moments that make up a life of experience, which is what the work is about.

The arrangement is not chronological, the photographs have their own pace, some documenting the early days of fixed freestyle in New York, others capturing an innocuous street scene at the CMWC (Cycle Messenger World Championships) in Panajachel. The selection of photographs take you on a journey from Japan to Taiwan, through Guatemala, Germany and across the US; Boston, New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Hawaii.

These inside glimpses might be worlds apart from most peoples everyday experiences, but they are pictures made without self-consciousness, they have a human element of life being lived that people can connect with, you get a sense that he was not simply an onlooker, but part of the moment, there’s nothing premeditated about them and that gives them a unique emotional power.

This story first appeared on NowhereFast.cc

Located in Chiba just east of Tokyo …&Bicycle is one of Japan’s rising number of unique cycle shops that cater to the refined tastes of the Japanese cyclist looking for something special.

Up until last year, Seiichi Watanabe had been a systems engineer with a deep love for cycling. Building his own bikes and wheels, acquiring all of the skills he needed along the way by visiting bike shops where he could spend time with other people skilled in the craft. A strong rider himself, he has an interest in bikes that spans road, cyclocross and mountain, riding geared and single-speed – racing on some of these and also taking part in the gruelling Rapha Continental rides. A long term friendship with Yano-san from Rapha Japan since his early days in cycling, Seiichi is often involved with helping out at various events and exhibitions where he met a lot of kindred riders that fuelled his desire to do something for himself, to realise the dream of living with what he loves.

A turning point came as he was approaching 40, it’s a major decision to give up a steady career and take a chance on something purely for the love of it, but after 3 years of preparation he opened his own bike store with the aim to share the love of two wheels and the aesthetics that can come with it. Not to be elitist – he sees bikes as part of life, whether its racing, work or hobby, everything is good, any style or any price. The name for his shop came from the same simple concept; connecting somebody, something or somewhere to a bicycle. The aim is exclusively a non-traditional bike shop that sells an equal amount of bikes, clothes and other small items sourced from all over the world, he’s often asked by customers “is this really a bike shop?”.

The taste is more geared toward natural materials like waxed cotton, leather, wood and steel which is Watanabe’s own taste, acquired after many years on many bikes, preferring to get a sense that the item has been made by another human’s hands rather than a computer programmed machine. The products are sourced both locally and internationally; hand made tool rolls from Erika in Portland, Carradice and Bailey Works bags from Lancashire and New Hampshire, Rapha and Brooks go without saying, there are even wooden bottle holders made by hand in Oregon. From Japan the items are even more exclusive like those made from recycled parts by Gunung in Odawara or the tailored clothes from Stem who favour traditional fabrics over modern synthetics and supply colours exclusive to the shop. He told me that people tend to travel quite a distance to visit here from places like Saitama, Ibaraki and Narita, people who appreciate Watanabe’s taste and the atmosphere he’s created.

Physically the store itself reflects this taste, there’s lots of bare wood, a stool made from a woven lattice of inner tubes and shelves made using a similar technique with tubes and raw metal. At the back of the store there’s a large sofa surrounded by a selection of classic books and suitably select magazines, a place for customers to relax and spend some time chatting, but also a place where you can sit back and watch your bike as it’s being built. Whether he’s building from a bespoke Independent Fabrication frame or setting up something out of the box he will always make a point of customising the bike to suit the rider, whether its the width of the handlebars, thickness of the bar tape or the style of brake levers, it’s these small details that are important. After only a year in business Watanabe is at a point where he’s beginning to think about using his unique space to collaborate on events and exhibitions connected to the world of two wheels, and we can’t wait to see what happens.

This story first appeared on NowhereFast.cc

...&Bicycle's website.

Full of unique stories and amazing photography, Papersky is a Japanese magazine that celebrates the simple art of travel, aiming to inspire the reader to go out and discover the world in their own way.

As part of their commitment to a living magazine that enriches the world rather than creating false worlds to aspire to they’ve been organising an ongoing Tour de Nippon that readers can participate in, each ride focussing on a particular area of Japan and its local culture that can often be extremely difficult to access. The routes are usually centred around more bucolic locations of the island; Kyoto, Shizuoka, Aomori and Shiga have all featured on previous tours.

The boat journey along Tokyo's Sumida River.

The Tokyo ride was divided into afternoon and evening routes designed to show people new sides to a city that has so many amazing hidden spaces, even for people that live here. I joined the night ride with the official guide for the event, Nowhere Fast member and Rapha film maker Daisuke Kitayama, together with some of Tokyo’s bicycle messengers who were on hand for assistance. The group of just over twenty riders met at Hinode Pier in Tokyo Bay where we began with a boat trip together with our bikes along the Sumida River. Experiencing the city by boat is unique in seeing the more hidden edges of Tokyo and more familiar things from a new perspective. For the first time I could clearly see the Asahi Beer headquarters – partially designed by Philippe Starck to resemble a glass of beer with a frothy head. The journey ended in the old entertainment district of Asakusa where we had an unimpeded view of the iconic Skytree, the second tallest tower in the world and just in time for the specially designed evening light display to mark its first anniversary.

Skytree's first anniversary lightshow.

From Asakusa we headed west, past the 7th Century Sensouji temple, taking in the unique sites of the old entertainment district and on toward Ueno Park where we rode past the huge Shinobazu Pond, the lotus plants that were just beginning to cover it illuminated by the lights of the city and nearby Gojōten Jinja. Cycling through the streets of Tokyo in a group of 20 plus riders, lights blazing, is an amazing experience, every time I looked back I couldn’t help smiling. After winding through various backstreets, all completely new to me, we paused on a unassuming rail crossing to look through the gates and see Ueno train depot, fully loaded with carriages and locked up for the night.

Somewhere in Akihabara.

After a short ride South toward the Imperial Palace we reached the more familiar grandeur of Tokyo Station where there was time for some group shots in front of a building that at first appearance is immediately more European than Japanese. With the palace in the distance we set off along Naka-dori, a flagstone paved boulevard of luxury brands and on toward the contrasting but far more impressive tunnel like maze of the International Arcade in Hibiya, shutters down for the night, its a rag tag collection of old shops that run underneath the highway, with its narrow path that seems to go on forever, it felt like a kind of urban slalom course. Continuing South we headed through the streets of Shinbashi until we reached Shiba Park and Zōjō-ji, a temple that dates back to 1590 and sits beneath Tokyo Tower, the main broadcasting tower of the capital from 1958 until duties were transferred to the Skytree earlier this year.

Underground in the Tokyo International Arcade.

Before we finished the ride we headed to Azabu-Juban and a very local sento (public bath) namedTaké no Yu with it’s startlingly black mineral-rich water originating from an underground hot spring, the ultimate way to unwind after a ride. I’m not sure what the locals thought as we descended on the place, it became a little packed in there but the atmosphere remained friendly, despite the heat. Another short ride from Azabu to Shibaura would be the last few miles before locking up the bikes and setting up for some urban camping on the balconies and rooftop of Shibaura House. The night ended with a live reading and performance by duo Kojima Keitaney-Love, everyone seated around an imaginary camp fire a few heavy heads already sleepy, a perfect ending before heading for our tents

I’m fortunate to work in a studio just across the street from Calm & Punk Gallery, run by the same team responsible for the superb Gasbook series of design books that have included Mike Mills, Tomato, Laurent Fetis and Nagi Noda. Things got even better when I was told in early June that the gallery would be transformed into the Rapha Cycle Club Tokyo for four weeks to coincide with the 100th Tour de France.

I watched excitedly over the course of a week as various boxes, furniture and fittings were delivered to the sparse gallery space which slowly emerged as a café and store, complete with bunting, Condor and Team Sky replica bikes, two special edition Rapha Giotto Rocket espresso machines from Milan and a complete exhibition of the recent La Centième prints by artists from across the globe including; Geoff McFetridge, Max Er-denberger, Jack Saunders and Yuji Yamada (who’s original paintings were also being shown). The print catalogue, presented in a tricolour set, is a beautifully embossed ob-ject produced by Generation Press in East Sussex, the artisan printers responsible for the the more elaborate paper materials by Rapha.

It’s one thing to view Rapha products through their website, but it was an entirely different experience to be able to take your time looking through the complete range of jerseys, gloves and other cycling-related products, examining the materials and all of the small details that make Rapha, Rapha. There was a good selection of printed material available too if you decided to spend some time in the café; the weekly Doppio (In Japanese and English), back issues of Rouleur — all with the previous day’s stage playing in the background.

Rapha have always had a serious commitment to coffee and in Japan its something people have a passion for. The coffee for the Tokyo store came from MiCT, a family business in Toyama prefecture run by Mr. Tomikawa, meticulous in his art and most importantly a very nice guy. As well as coffee, various food and pastries were supplied daily from a local bakery, along with good beer and Rapha labelled Haramo Wine from Katsunuma in Yamanashi.

The evening before the Grand Départ from Corsica the club held a special event where pro tour cycling photographer and television presenter, Kei Tsuji, gave a talk on the teams and their riders as they were being introduced on-screen in France. Live screening of the Tour meant the store usually stayed open late due to the time dif-ference with Europe, but it was actually quite nice to watch the stage live in the evening. The bike racks were full and always a good atmosphere inside, especially if there was a Japanese rider in a breakaway. Unfortunately, with the end of the Tour came the end of the pop-up Cycle Club. However, work is currently in progress for a permanent Rapha Cycle Club that is planned to open in Tokyo in 2014, the second in Japan after Osaka.

This story originally appeared on NowhereFast.cc

Californian expat and CEO of Knee High Media Japan, Lucas Badtke-Berkow, speaks to Lee Basford for Survey in Tokyo.

You came to live in Japan almost 20 years ago, what was it that led you here in the beginning?

I came to Japan the very next day after graduating from the University of California in Santa Cruz. I had never traveled outside of the US. I had lived in America and studied in America for a good 23 years; so I felt I needed to experience a change of culture and find somewhere that was inspiring for me. That place was Japan. I had been creating school newspapers, literature journals, writing and designing since elementary school and through University. I was a magazine addict. I also had a strong interest in Japanese fashion and design, and in San Francisco’s Kinokuniya’s bookshop I was able to see a lot of Japanese publications first hand.

Your history with bikes goes back long before you moved to Tokyo.

Yes, bicycling was something I started my first year in Santa Cruz back in 1989. I wanted to do something that would keep me active in college and also get me outdoors – because Santa Cruz is such an amazingly beautiful place. It’s got incredibly stunning oceans, mountains, and landscapes. Santa Cruz also was a leading community in creating the world’s surfing and skateboarding scenes as well as mountain biking. All of this was going on pretty much around the time I was attending University there. I joined the UCSC cycling team in my freshmen year and thanks to Willard Ford (Harrison Ford’s son) – who encouraged me to continue on with cycling despite being totally shocked at both the distance and speed after our first training ride – I rode with the UCSC team for three years. One of those years we had a collegiate race on the UCSC campus. Being super excited to race at our own campus I burst out front for the first two laps of about 10 and totally blew up thereafter, but this was my only moment of cycling glory at the front of the race – so, for me, it is quite a good cycling memory.

People outside Japan may know you as the founder of Tokion magazine, but you’ve been producing plenty of other publications in a world where magazines are becoming an endangered species.

I’ve been making magazines since elementary school so in short it’s kinda all I know how to do, which means I gotta keep on making them and adapting them for the times. I founded, directed and edited Tokion [the first and only dedicated Japanese culture magazine made in Japan] from 1996-2002. Tokion introduced Japanese youth culture to the world and moved Japan beyond being a land of Geishas and Samurai to one of being the cutting edge of new culture, music, design and art. In my mind the time we published Tokion was probably the most relevant period for magazine publishing as a media. Currently we publish a travel magazine called Papersky and a kid’s magazine called Mammoth.

You connect Papersky with activities in the outside world through events like the Tour de Nippon?

Yes, the Tour de Nippon (Japan) project is about finding the magic of Japan’s rural districts, their inhabitants, nature, culture and food. We travel to various prefectures and ride bicycles. Traveling via bicycle allows us a clean and healthy way to explore Japan’s rural areas. We’ve got a few movies online from past rides – they are all worth having a brief look at for anybody interested in Japan.

Tokyo | Shizuoka

Papersky currently runs five clubs: Bicycle, Mountain, Book, Food and Japan. Each club has a Captain that is highly knowledgeable and active in their field. For each event we work with our Captains on finding out ways we can tap into the locality of an area. For instance, we frequently invite chefs to collaborate with local farmers to create a unique dinner. We also work with local craftsmen and women to design small workshops that our guests can create a handmade item such as traditional lacquer spoons or learn the process and skill of cleaning and salting a fresh fish. Besides riding on our bicycles we also like to walk and frequently create programs to climb mountains or explore culture destinations with local people. It is our hope that through our Tour de Nippon project we’ll be able to introduce both Japanese people and people from around the world into a culture that is extremely difficult to access otherwise.

You work on many other creative projects too?

Knee High Media is also a creative agency – we pretty much work for anybody who comes to us with an interesting project. We help clients with branding, creating images, brochures, events, product design and so on. Recently we teamed up with Brooks to create custom maps of the cities we travel to on the Tour de Nippon.

Everyone that visits your office in Shibuya is always impressed; it’s one of the few remaining old houses in central Tokyo isn’t it?

We were very lucky to find the Knee High House or the Green Studio as it’s sometimes known. We also use it for events related to our media as well as rent it out for photo shoots. The Knee High House was built approximately 80 years ago and it is near Kono Temple, the founding location for the city of Shibuya. It’s a beautiful and a special place because while being very old is also extremely modern for the time it was built in and has a big garden that we sometimes use for movie screenings, cooking clubs or small events. We remodeled the house a bit when moving in 18 years ago, to make it usable both as an office and living quarters. When Knee High turned 15, three years back, we asked our good friend and artist Kami and his wife Sasu to paint the outside wall.

Can you mention the helmet you’re wearing, it’s quite special.

The I Am Law Tokyo alleycat race is organised by Nikolas Koto of 25las Bicycle Works which recently moved to a new location in Naka-Meguro, the opening party provided a good opportunity to catch up with Nikolas and to ask a few questions.

The new location is two shops, 25las and Sundays Best. How long have you and Yuuki (Sunday Best’s owner) been friends and tell us why the move to Naka-Meguro?

Yuuki and I met about 5 years ago. He worked at my favorite skateboard shop, near the old 25las store. When we were looking for new premises we didn’t really care about the location of the shop, the Naka-Meguro space just came up. The most important thing for us is that the two different types of customer can meet in one place.

You participated in the Rapha Gentlemans race last month in Oguni, how was it for you?

It was just an amazing experience, we are definately planning to do it again. For me personally I think I finally understand the real meaning of a TEAM-RIDE. The best part was meeting the different teams and seeing team culture.The variety of riders makes for a really interesting and affirming ride. Also for me the supreme location and route really made for an extraordinary race.

When did you become a mechanic and why? Also, you have a lot of courier friends, did you courier before becoming a mechanic?

I’ve never been a courier but I have always been interested in courier culture, so much so that I still have the idea that one day i’ll be a courier. I got into bikes seriously when the MASH SF DVD went on sale in JAPAN, maybe that was in 2007? My friend invited me to become a bicycle mechanic, he works for a pro-bicycle shop and thought I had the potential to be a mechanic.

Can you recommend your favourite 3 bike shops in Tokyo/Japan?

Personally, I don’t really like regular style retail bicycle shops. I don’t see them or regard them as proper bicycle stores even though I see them as having the biggest influence on bicycle culture. I prefer original style workshops and builders.

For me BORED (Kenichi Naitou), EFFECT (Atsushi Hibiya), and REW10WORKS (Ryuuji Ikeda) represent what I like in a good bike workshop.

Nikolas, so when is next 25las alleycat race ?

It’s coming 31st of MAY!

Photography Lee Basford

Interview James Stacey / blackhookpress.com

This story first appeared on NowhereFast.cc