Saturday, 11 May 2013

Mavic R-SYS SLR


“Stealthy”

It’s an odd pick for what seems to be the word of the year for the bicycle industry (my critics would point out that the “stealth” trend has in fact been on the cards for the past few years, but bear with me). Seemingly in a backlash against the lurid neons of the eighties, and the boring blues and pastels of the turn of the millennium (which I’m going to mostly blame on a certain Trek bicycle company and their associated athletes and sponsors), bicycle fashion has been heading towards the black and highlighted, when necessary, with slightly blacker blacks. Some would liken the aesthetic to an F117. Others, to riding Darth Vader’s bicycle.

Whatever anyone’s personal opinion on the matter, our bicycles are getting darker, so get with it or join the counterculture.

Jumping onto the bandwagon with both wheels is Mavic, who has finally brought the stealth aesthetic to aluminium rims with their latest R-SYS SLR clinchers. Ostensibly a revision of their “exalith” super-hard braking surface treatment, these wheels couldn’t be any more bang-on-trend if they launched their own video-sharing social networking fourth-generation app on Google Glass. Billed as a lightweight but stiff wheelset for both going up and coming down mountains, the SLRs have more techny acronyms than can slot into a computer’s north bridge and sound, both in hyperbolic description and in road noise, like something from another planet.

By milling the heck out of the rims and reinforcing the thin braking surface with their pitch-dark anti-teflon, the French wheel geniuses have made a catch-me-if-you-can set of all-day wheels that rub shoulders with carbon wheels going uphill, and outbrake them going down.

Of all of Mavic’s wheels, the SLRs make most use of the (in)famous Tracomp hollow carbon spokes, spec’ing them on both sides of the front wheel and on the non-drive-side of the rear, complementing them with two-cross bladed spokes on the drive side to take drivetrain torque. The result is striking; on the front, at least.

For such a low spoke count, the front wheel is admirably solid laterally, and, in conjunction with a braking surface which at least equals (though I cannot say betters) the best performance of any alloy wheel, encourages attacking descending. If your front end isn’t tracking where it should be as you loop down mountain switchbacks, it certainly won’t be stiffness that is lacking.

That stiffness can bite back as sharply as the brakes bite deep, though. With little give in the wheel itself, you are entirely reliant on the tyre to grip. Whilst the spec’ed Griplink clinchers do a fine job here, their relatively narrow footprint made me wish for some floatier tyres to really match the performance of the wheel. Pressure and suppleness are equally vital to really get your money’s worth.
And then there are the brakes. Supplied with their own hard pads, the rims are virtually workshop files looking to strip of speed, and like industrial equipment, they do so loudly and roughly. I am assured that given time, the pads/rims come to an accord when they meet, but until then expect them to yell like there’s no tomorrow. Racing, I got a few rebukes for what was heard as panic-braking, but in fact was nothing but a slight scrubbing of speed.

Not that I would particularly want to panic-brake on these wheels. Modulation on the grippy rims is nigh-on discrete, and with very little mass out at the edge, lock-ups are a very real possibility, especially in wet conditions.

Out back, things aren’t quite so startling. With the pads making a pronounced “phvee” sound every time they contact the rim, you’re never in any doubt about whether you’re touching or not, and, disappointingly, like a beautiful senorita, the Mavics do sway.

I tend to set up my brakes pretty tightly, so the fact that I had to completely release the rear brake in O’er the Crow should be taken in context, but for a wheelset that sets its stall out to be a climber’s friend, this was an unpleasant surprise.

Make no mistake, these feel like light wheels, and never more so than when out of the saddle – spinning up hills whilst standing is a lag-free delight as the wheels take no effort to spin-up, either through inertia or torsion. It’s a shame, then, that every few strokes would be met by that attention-grabbing “phvee.” I am by no means a heavy rider, at 70kg, and have never had anything like this level of deflection before. Ok, so I haven’t ridden a wheelset within 450g of these before, but at more than five times the price of my normal race wheels, I was expecting better.

Finally, there’s the aerodynamics. I’ve heard strange things either way about Tracomp spokes – about how their thicker girth means that the air passing over the trailing edge of the wheel is already so disturbed that there’s no net increase in drag, and how having less spokes is more important than having lots of aero ones.

I’m not buying it.

Regardless of whether it’s down to the spokes or the rims these do not feel aerodynamic in the slightest. And that’s fine. They’re not meant to be. But bear that in mind if you want an all-purpose wheelset.

What’s more, the centre of drag on the front is in a peculiar position, leaving the forks unstable when subject to gusts from the side. It’s not powerful – there’s not enough area to feel like you’re sailing like on aero rims – but it introduces a small-amplitude oscillation that you have to damp out with your own controls. Like a fly-by-wire fighter, the bike feels like it wants to show off its nimbleness to such an extent that you have to reign it back to keep it in a straight line. It’s not much, and not all of the time, but it’s fair to say that these aren’t great cruising wheels.

Make no mistake, these are “good” wheels by any measure. If you want lightweight wheels that are going to last more than a thousand miles, that are as comfortable going downhill as they are going uphill, that have consistent braking surfaces and the go-anywhere convenience of a clincher, you aren’t going to find many better than these. Switch from a £300 pair of wheels to these, and your bike will suddenly gain that lift-with-your-little-finger wow factor and you will be able to climb faster, and that’s a fact. However, they are not perfect, and aren’t necessarily £1300 better than that £300 pair. They aren’t aerodynamic, the brakes can be grabby and very noisy, the rear wheel is nowhere near as stiff as it could be and the tyres are merely ok (on the front, anyway. The rear seems to be ok, though I have lost traction a couple of times, but couldn’t honestly say whether that was down to the tyre or me not being used to such a lightweight wheel when standing uphill). Only you can make the decision as to whether they’re worth what they cost to you.

That being said, if you’re desperate for a black, aluminium braking track, the decision has been made for you.

Vive le mode.

Saturday, 4 May 2013

Square One

It was bound to happen some day.

Today was the "O'er the Crow 'n' Doon" race, put on by GJS Cruise racing. A national B, E123 race, it'd be my first chance to play with the "big boys", including Evan Oliphant and the whole Herbalife team. Twice over the famous Crow Road climb, we would complete two 26 mile laps before finishing with a flat sprint into the wind.

These are my training roads, and I was as confident as I could possibly be on them. I had sessioned the descent, memorising every bit of rough surface, and a friend had very kindly let me borrow his £1600 lightweight Mavic SLRs, bringing the total weight of the bike down to about 7.2kg. Conditions could hardly be more ideal.

My first indication that things weren't quite right was before we even started. Having ridden out to the race at a leisurely pace, I hadn't really warmed up, and had no element of my normal pre-race sharpness as I lounged around the strip. Perhaps, knowing that I had no chance in the overall, I wasn't coming into it seriously.

The race started well enough. I positioned myself near the head of the bunch, and allowed myself to drop back as the cross-winds lined us out. Too far. I realized far too late what a sterling job the wind had done of stretching out the bunch, and without intention I found myself too far back to cover the race properly without a huge stretch of exposure.

Coming up the hill to Killearn, I clawed back some time, but we were then into a headwind, and the line grew even longer. I told myself that I would make an effort on the flats between Strathblane and Lennoxtown, with the wind behind us.

I didn't.

Whether because of fear of oncoming, or simple laziness, I put off the attack. I figured my climbing would be good enough to get me up there when the Crow came.

Here, alarm bells should have been ringing. Cattle prods should have been zapping my ankles. This is racing 101 - you need to be at the front before you get to the obstacle that might split the bunch. I wasn't.

As we climbed the first time, an oil tanker met an oncoming car where the road narrowed. It was anarchy. With barely enough room for two riders to pass at a time - one either side of the oncoming car - the bunch split, and I was left on the wrong side.

Moving up steadily past the stragglers, I was unable to put much time into the bunch, and they dangled twenty seconds or so in front of me as we entered the fast, tailwind-assisted faux plat at the top. I figured I would be able to catch such a large group on the descent.

I wasn't able to.

In fact, other riders started coming back. Admittedly, on aerodynamic bikes with deep-section wheels, but I have always maintained that they don't make that much of a difference. I couldn't understand it. Why was I having to sprint downhill to keep up with these guys?

Into the headwind at the bottom, and I was on my own. Again. After three or four miles, a pursuant group caught me and I started working with them, and for a while we stood a chance. Of the group of more than a dozen, though, only 8 of us worked at all, and frequently the hangers-on would come up alongside the last chainganger, completely disrupting the rhythm and causing big gaps to grow.

Needless to say, I didn't miss a turn unnecessarily.

We were within 5 seconds of the main bunch when we turned into the wind, and the order was destroyed. Unable to work in a standard chain-gang formation, riders would sprint up the outside and hold momentum, driving the front of the bunch faster and faster and harder and harder into the wind. With only four of us now working to claw back these final few seconds, it was becoming brutally hard work.

Gasping, grabbing, wringing my bars, I was unable to keep the pace. As I burst, I waved riders around me, but they seemed to take forever to take up the chase. Within a minute, though, I was on the back of the group. A minute of whiplashing and concertinaing later, I was off it.

Two minutes of recovery was enough, but the gap had grown out to thirty seconds. I chased hard onto the back of the service car, but couldn't get past it. The hill to Blanefield was enough to finish me off, as the cars surged and sagged up the steep incline, and there was nothing more to do but swear at myself for letting go.

Furious that I was letting everyone and everything down - not least Simon's wheels - I got my act together in the tailwind between Strathblane and Lennoxtown and pushed hard. It was far, far too late though, and on a flat section, I stood no chance at all.

Back into the Crow, I thought the bunch was in sight, but it turned out to be Sterling BC out for a Saturday ride. I span past them all, but couldn't make out the racers from the club runners.

There were only a couple of burst souls to pass on the never-say-die descent, and it was then over.

45th. My lowest ever finish in an unhindered race.

To finish so far off the back, with no mechanical or physical reason to be, is simply unacceptable. My only hope is that this will turn out to be the kick-up-the-rear-end that I so clearly need.

Next week is my target - Brenig.

Let's hope I've learned something.