The Radavist

A reggae legend once told me, ‘the hardest part is the start!’ But let me tell you, Johnny Osbourne never faced the world of long-distance cycling. The start may be tough, but stopping, oh, stopping is a beast of its own. It’s like vertigo, a swirling chaos that leaves you dizzy and disoriented, a sailor back on solid ground after weeks at sea or a diver breaking the surface after a deep plunge. Everything becomes surreal, nothing makes sense, and you yearn for something to hold on to, but there’s nothing, just an immovable void.

For fourteen relentless days, I pushed forward, covering at the very least a hundred kilometers a day, as landscapes, faces, and weather slowly morphed around me. From scorching 43-degree heat to 10-degree cold which by then felt like -10! I rode on. My journey, a long bike ride from my new home in Portugal to my old abode in Belgium, driven by a selfish urge, wrapped in a cloak of nobility.

We’re back with our second eclectic mix of findings from the 2023 Sea Otter Classic. Yesterday’s post just wasn’t enough to tell you about all the new bikes, old bikes, products, and people Josh and Travis encountered this year. In fact, we reckon even two posts won’t be enough. There’s a lot to cover, so settle in with your morning coffee and enjoy.

Next week, I’m loading up the Troopy and heading West to the Keyesville Classic. Every year, vintage mountain bike aficionados descend upon the Kern valley to race vintage bikes while the “real” race occurs. This vintage race is quite the spectacle, and if you’ve never seen it in person, you ought to check out Erik Hillard’s gallery he shot a few years ago for The Radavist.

At any rate, I just finished buttoning up my bike I’ll be bringing to Keyesville to ride and, yes, take part in the vintage race. Let’s check it out in detail below…

This is part two of an in depth conversation between Tom Ritchey and Ryan le Garrec where Ryan seeks to identify key periods in Tom’s life alongside key people. Perhaps second only to Tom’s father, it seems that Jobst Brandt had significant influence of the young Tom. Below, Ryan shares excerpts from Tom’s side of their conversation that highlight Jobst’s character, his notorious rides, and his lasting impact. Enjoy!

Sometimes, adventure comes calling.

For Chris McNally that call came from Ritchey when we asked him to tackle the Nutmeg Nor’Easter with nothing more than a rough outline of must-dos and our adventure-ready Ascent.

Tom Ritchey is not what you would call an open book. Rather, he’s a whole library; a labyrinth with many alleys, chockfull of stories, where everything splits and branches like the best network of singletrack, and there are no cul de sacs. Every door leads you to another room. Every answer opens up another question. There are no shortcuts.

The following is just a casual conversation. In it, you might not find all the details of the next frame that he is working on but you may find a better understanding into what it took for Tom Ritchey to become Tom Ritchey.

“I have a public self and I have a personal self. I could answer that question on a public side and tell you I just love riding my bike and being by myself and all (…) That would be an authentic answer but it’s not the whole answer of course. So I’ll give you the personal one too.” – Tom Ritchey

Every bike has a story, but some intrinsically harbor more nuanced lore. As you might have noticed, over the past few years, I’ve acquired a few Ritchey frames from the 1980s. We’ve previously covered my Everest and the story of Tom’s early Bullmoose designs; I also have a 1985 Annapurna, and this no serial number 1980 Ritchey, which might be the best build yet.

This era of mountain bike design and development is my favorite. In the late 70s, guys like Joe Breeze built beautiful bikes inspired by balloon cruisers and klunkers. Tom Ritchey, inspired by the frenetic energy of the mountain bike genesis, began making fat tire frames in the late 70s. From 1980 through 1981, several bikes left Tom’s shop, including the fabled ‘chicken coop’ bikes, and a few were built void of any serial number.

This bike is the latter, and boy, does it have a story…