About a decade ago I stumbled across the cycling world of audax. Long distance endurance riding that was described to me as “…like fast touring”. The word audax intrigued me, hinted at an aesthetic, at something mysterious and foreign. I asked other cycling friends about it but no one really knew much, it was talked about in a “here be monsters” kind of way, all third hand rumours about mudguard flaps and clipboards and sleeping in bus stops. Looking into the history it seemed an audax would originally be ridden in teams with a road captain, whereas something called a ‘randonnee’ were ridden less formally, maybe in groups but sometimes individually. Audax derives from the Latin for audacious whereas randonnee translates from French most closely to ramble, tramp or hike. Whether Italian or French rules were followed rides had to be at least 200 kilometres and ridden against the clock.

I entered an event to find out more. What I discovered was a beautiful semi-hidden past time setting off from municipal sport centre car parks and church halls. I was given a route sheet listing directions and control points and a card, a Brevet de Randonneur, for collecting stamps or tucking receipts into, evidence that I rode the whole way. The brevet evoked memories of touring as a teenager and filling my YHA membership card with hostel stamps. I like the people that inhabit this world, the ones you meet in village halls early in the morning and on petrol station forecourts late at night. I like that volunteers manage control points on village greens and in church halls with trestle tables and mismatching china and serve you tea with a smile. Swapping stories of other places and getting lost over cheese sarnies and victoria sponge. Perched on bag of charcoal outside a garage at midnight with a packet of crisps blankly staring at petrol pumps. Riding through the back entrance of motorway services at 4am looking for a vending machine for a much needed double espresso. It’s not for everyone.

Living in Brighton it’s only a 15 kilometre ride along the coast to Newhaven where I can jump on a ferry to Dieppe. Around the same time I delved into the world of audax I also started regularly channel hopping to ride in northern France. The roads are quieter and the pastries better. Audax UK have an award called Randonneur Round The Year (RRTY), maybe ‘award’ is a strong word but you get a cloth badge you can sew on your saddlebag if you like. To get the badge you must complete at least one 200 kilometre ride per month for 12 consecutive months. In the back of my mind I’d always thought I’d like to attempt RRTY on French roads. The word randonneur is French after all.

The overnight ferry arrives around 5am and the return evening ferry is usually at 6pm. That’s a gap of 13-ish hours which is a pretty much the time limit for a 200km audax. The perfect set up for an randonneur’s day trip so between September 2022 and August 2023 I completed RRTY on French soil. I had a vague plan to make a book of the rides, text mixed with 35mm photographs, but from the first ride I regularly spotted water towers scattered across the Normandy landscape. They quickly became a recurring motif of the rides and became the basis of linocuts and then screen prints.

Printmaking seems an apt way to represent a bike ride. A photo is an instant taken in an instant, a glimpse, something caught in the blink of an eye, particularly when taken one handed using a mobile phone grabbed from a pocket whilst still pedalling. Printing on the other hand has much in common with riding a bike a long way: It’s process driven, takes some planning, requires effort and is time consuming.

To an extent both start with the drawing of a line; either digitally on an app or a finger tracing roads on unfurled map, in a sketchbook or on the screen of my iPad. Further planning is required for things to work out in a pleasing manner. Is that a big road? How steep is that hill? What do I cut out? Which order to I print the colours? Is there a patisserie in this town? Where’s the nearest café? Both are durational and involve lots of cups of coffee. They involve scribbled notes and changes of mind along the way. They are exploring, finding new things, something invariably doesn’t quite go to plan. Periods of monotony interspersed with moments of pure unadulterated “OH HELL YES!” excitement. Very, very occasionally I think ‘why did I bother.”

In May 2024 I’ll be showing the prints at Porteur in Hove in an exhibition titled “Meet Me By The Water Tower”* as part of the annual Artist Open Houses during the Brighton Festival. More details can be found on at Artists Open Houses. There should also be some of the screenprints in a group show at East Side Print at the same time. Much like the rides I hope I complete the work within the time limit…

*thanks Pete Astor for letting me borrow his lyric for the title of the exhibition